We were both five years old. I was on my bike and he was on a really big tricycle when we accidently ran into each other. He was wearing a hat with ear muffs [sure sign of a momma's boy] and since he was on a tricycle and also on my turf I knew that I could 'whip' him and justice was on my side.
He immediately apologized in a manner which took the wind out of my sails. His accompanying nanny also apologized.
They asked if I would care to join them for lunch and I accepted, of course with parental approval.
My family had just moved to Camden and we were living in Kirkwood Apartments. His family lived in a big house on Broad St. I do not remember what we had for lunch, but it was not the usual fare of peanut butter and jelly with the beverage being contained in a glass with stripes or some cartoon character. The glasses had stems, we set in a formal dining room, the carpet was oriental, the conversation was genteel, and I prayed that I would not spill anything and that I wished that I had washed my face better.
Steven and I became good friends and we attended the old Camden Elementary School for the first five grades. He was not a good student and on occasion I would do his homework for him. He did not participate in some of the rough and tumble sports of recess,and so on more than one occasion I got whipped taking up for him because someone felt he was an easy mark.
When our class entered the fifth grade the administration began academically grouping us. I was quickly placed over my head and he was in the middle of the pack. The next year I dropped down a level and he went off to prep school.
We never saw each other for the next six years, but would ask about each other through mutual friends.
Over the Christmas break of our senior year, there was formal dance and we again bumped into each other. We hugged [manly] and I was amazed at how tall he had grown.
We exchanged pleasantries and then we asked about each other's future plans. While my academic career had not exactly blossomed from its early success [it mostly centered on staying eligible and keeping my parents happy], his had soared.
I told him that I had a good chance to get into one of the public universities and I am sure that he noticed my surprise when he said he was choosing between the Universities of Princeton or Virginia.
All I could think of was that six years before he could not even spell' Virginia,' much less attend college there. However, my respect for private boarding schools shot up tremendously that winter night.
He chose Princeton and studied theater and I have seen him on television on several occasions. He was a regular on the sitcom with Florence J. Castleberry of "kiss my grits" fame.
We have seen each other once or twice in the last forty years and as it is with any old friend of yesteryear it is always good to see them, but there are less and less commonalities.
When I was teaching college prep history in high school, I would quite often give a pre test at the first of the year. You could always tell which kids had attended Joseph Kershaw Academy because they were better writers. Not smarter, nor did they have any better ability to learn, recall, or speak, but they were better writers because they came from classes that had fewer students. It is much easier for a teacher to grade 20 papers rather than 80.
Smaller number of students in a class setting is one solution for better schools; however, labor cost is a major problem with public budgets. One solution could be the integration of more artificial intelligence.
As I ended my term on he South Carolina School Board, I was asked to make a parting address. The abbreviated version is that when I had first started serving nine years earlier, "I thought I knew all of the answers, now I am not sure I know all the questions. But then, I have not met anyone who does."
Thank you for your attention.
(writing by Buster Beckham)