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Today's Featured Biography
Martin Jablonski
Odyssey (od·ys·sey) a long series of wanderings or adventures, especially when filled with notable experiences, hardships, etc.
Inspired by the few from our class who have already written, I decided to reflect on how much Maine East Township High School, particularly the Class of 1971, has been such a large part of my odyssey. For those of you who may not want to read all this is written here, I will say now that the Class of 1971 was a terrific new beginning for me because it was like my social orientation for adulthood.
High school was the second most formative stage for me. Virtually all of my years at Maine East were filled with much mischievous and seemingly mindless misbehavior but it facilitated my emergence from a childhood darkened by the death of Charles, my brother and closest friend. In all reality, our very large class of some 1,000 students turned out to be the perfect environment for me to blend into because it kept me from becoming a prickly aberration of who I really was. The Class of 1971 enabled me to avoid becoming ostracized as some people can be when part of a much smaller population of students. At 1,000 strong, I was permitted to grow up more slowly and thankfully, less noticeably too.
Having grown up in the inner city, my suburban experience did not begin until the summer of 1967. I entered high school not knowing anyone, made a few friends and was eventually able to associate a name with the face of every single student in our class. The few who became acquaintances might have been a little like me, loners, trying to find their way into the mainstream. Had anyone chose to notice, I never participated in student government, sports (other than wrestling which ended poorly after about two weeks), drama, or any of the other after school activities. Partly, this was because my school days usually ended with me being employed at some part time job.
Scholastically, I was a disaster and it was mostly because of my limited attention span. However, there were a number of teachers who made an impact on me. At the top of the list was Mrs. Manas who flunked me out of my second year of Spanish but this humiliating experience did make me want to study. It was Mr. Anderson who endlessly drilled me through a 3rd year of this same language, just so I could graduate. Mr. Davidson, he introduced me to the wonderful world of history, a class I had difficulty passing because my study skills were so poorly developed. And there was good ole Mr. Schmitt who helped me learn how to take apart and successfully rebuild an eight-cylinder gasoline-powered engine; this class required no studying but it helped that I was a little intuitive. Mr. Eck only comes to mind because of how he broke his clip board on my ass as he struck it, screaming for me to run faster (I thought he acted this way because of my refusal to join his track team). Of course, I cannot forget mentioning our feared and very large Dean of Boys, Mr. Schildgen, who absolutely had the biggest forearms I had ever known a man to possess. And finally, there was the unerring influence of my counselor, Ms. Jane Simmons who helped me to escape mediocrity; more about her later.
Yes, while I was at Maine East, my intellectual progress must have appeared inhibited and my emotional growth likely seemed retarded to faculty members and fellow students alike. Surely, I had to have stood out as one of the more boisterous boys in Study Hall but was completely unaware of how much the supervising teachers must have detested my behavior.
In the athletic realm, I performed only marginally better because my coordination skills seemed so unequalled. I was the worst player on a neighborhood softball team that came in dead last; it was the only organized sport I played during all of high school. However, the beginning of weight training, after reaching 16 years of age, did help me to get some footing as it strengthen my will power and I eventually surface from this murkiness.
Sometime during my third year in high school, I was fortunate to notice some fellow students talking excitedly about their plans to go on to college. What most stands out in my memory about this situation is my wanting to avoid full time employment after graduation and being stuck in some undesirable occupation for the rest of my life. It was a good enough reason to attend college and it forced me into the dedicated effort of paying more attention in class. It is here where Ms. Simmons may have been dutifully lying when she professed her deep belief in my ability handle college. She supported my application to a university which accepted me, albeit, strictly on a probationary basis. Most surprising is that the thought of being drafted to fight in Viet Nam never even occurred to me.
After all these years, it seems like Maine East was absolutely the best high school I could have possibly attended because I never felt turned away or at least was oblivious to those times when people may have been dismissive of me; a good example of how ignorance is bliss?
In effect, the Class of 1971 was my chance to fail and not be held back because of it. In the years that followed, my appetite for learning increased exponentially. I became a voracious reader of biographies, history and some science fiction. However, there were several years of remedial learning I required, particularly with subjects like English and Mathematics. My pursuit of knowledge and greater competence continued after college and in recent years, led to graduate work.
My outside interests have remained eclectic but my passions became more sharply defined and this was probably due to so many early years of stunted academia. Real estate has been my chief vocation since college but it no longer seems like work because land use has become my foremost fascination. Unsurprisingly, I support the environment and preservation too.
The most defining books I have read since 1971 would include Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation Trilogy,” Ken Follett’s “Wings of Eagles” and Doris Goodwin’s “Team of Rivals.” Just this last week, I finished reading “Unbroken” by Laura Hillenbrand and hereby dedicate this entry to the main character, Louis Zamperini, a WW II Veteran possessing the most indomitable of wills. During the war, Louis prevailed against all odds at sea (on a raft in the Pacific Ocean for a record 47 days) and on land (while in a Japanese POW camp); he never gave up. To me, Louis is a legend of a man who is a (still) living personification of the proverbial question of “how high is up?”
Thank you Class of 1971!
Martin Jablonski
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