Moonlight on Linoleum by Helwig Terry; Kidd Sue Monk;

Author:Helwig, Terry; Kidd, Sue Monk;
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: General, Literary, Family & Relationships, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Family Relationships
ISBN: 9781451628678
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2012-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

Mama in front of our trailer

Odessa, Texas

IN 1932, COWGIRL Grace Hendricks roped a jackrabbit from horseback in five seconds flat in the Odessa Rodeo, winning against numerous cowboys. Even though the roping competition took place three decades before I moved to Odessa (and my philosophy leaned more toward freeing rabbits than roping them), it was fitting that I moved into a town where a young cowgirl triumphed over a few cowboys.

You might say I found my courage in Odessa, in more ways than one.

My first day at Crockett Junior High, I couldn’t locate the science room. I walked into class shortly after the bell rang. The teacher assumed I was lost.

“This is science,” he informed me.

“I know,” I said, looking for an unoccupied desk near the front.

He perused the class list. “What’s your name?”

“Terry Vacha.”

“You spell Terry with a y, like a boy?”

I nodded.

He rubbed his chin, looked out at the boys, and smiled. “Well, looks like we got us a girl in class after all.”

The boys guffawed.

I quickly scooted into an empty seat and studied the rows of boys who wore collared shirts—school rules—tucked in. Not one girl in sight. Though I wasn’t the first girl to enroll in science at Crockett, no other girls were assigned to this particular class. Maybe somebody knew something I didn’t.

During the next several days, I smiled politely when the science teacher teased me about being the only girl. I didn’t mind so much. I liked science, and the ratio of twenty-something boys to one girl made me feel almost popular. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that my science teacher thought I had breached some imaginary testosterone boundary. I kept up with the boys academically, but the teacher wouldn’t let the matter rest.

Finally, one afternoon, he asked me point-blank, in front of my classmates, “So you think you can handle anything in this class a boy can handle?”

All eyes stared at me.

“I believe so,” I said, feeling slightly uneasy.

“Even a paddling?” he asked.

I paused.

Was it a trap?

If I said no, I would be saying that boys were somehow better. But if I said yes, I could be setting myself up for a paddling. As Daddy often said, I was between a rock and a hard place.

Paddling was an accepted form of corporal punishment in those days, especially among boys who acted up in school. My science teacher had, evidently, reached the conclusion that my bottom, not my brains, could best prove my equality in the classroom.

It was 1961, the same year President John F. Kennedy established the President’s Commission on the Status of Women. Gloria Steinem would not become a national icon for the feminist movement for another eight years. The game What Shall I Be?, offering young girls six careers to choose from when they grew up—teacher, actress, nurse, model, ballet dancer, or airline hostess—would not debut on toy-store shelves for another five years.

I hailed from a hardy line of women. Grandma Skinner held her own against any farmer in the field.

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