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— Full chapters will appear in the printed published book. —
I was getting close to graduating from grade 12 and I had a decision to make. Should I go to Winnipeg and take a secretarial or key-punch course? That would be exciting and new for me. Or should I finish grade 12 and try to find an office job? Or should I continue at Dryden High School and take grade 13?
Another year in Dryden seemed so unappealing to me — the town was really beginning to stifle me.
Another drawback for me was that business courses were not offered in grade 13, and shorthand and office practice had been the highlights of the day for me. I loved every minute in those classes. I could now type about 45 words a minute and could take shorthand at 120 words a minute, skills that I knew would benefit me for a long time. They had helped me already in grade 12. I was asked to be the secretary of the athletic association and I proudly accepted. That was quite prestigious for me. The reps on the association were voted in by their peers, so they were popular and well-liked. I was not ever voted in for anything but I could get equal status on the committee because of my skills. I was also asked to be a typist for the yearbook and I happily did that, too. I always got an A in my office subjects, but mostly a B in my academic courses.
The option sheet for grade 13 was sitting on the kitchen table and I was looking at it, contemplating my future. The choices I made now would be crucial in shaping the rest of my life.
A few months before the end of grade 12, each student was summoned to the guidance office for career counselling. It was still no surprise to me that the suggestions given to me were secretary, nurse or teacher. I knew I wasn’t smart enough to pursue some careers, such as engineer, doctor or lawyer. I might have considered being an accountant, but that hadn’t been suggested. It could give me more opportunities for management in business. I did well in the bookkeeping course I had taken earlier, but then had to drop it when I chose the secretarial route.
For many kids in Dryden, schooling stopped after grade 12 and they immediately went to work at the paper mill. The mill offered good-paying union jobs, but I didn’t want to stay in Dryden. And I wanted more of a career than that. I wanted to see the world!
There were many secretarial courses I could take after grade 12, but two seemed most plausible: Success Business College in Winnipeg, a two-year program, and Ryerson College in Toronto which offered a three-year program.
I thought about living in Toronto. I could enjoy that. The two visits with Doug had been so exciting for me. I knew he would help me find me a place to live and would be a good support for me. I wasn’t sure about financing for my higher education. I knew that student loans were available, so I might be able to afford to go.
Mrs. Berry, my office practice teacher, pulled me aside one day. I was one of the fastest typists and probably the top student in my class. She obviously saw potential in me. She knew I was thinking about taking a secretarial course at a college.
She offered me some advice. “Be sure you make the right decision. Think carefully. There is a significant difference between a diploma and a degree. My biggest regret is that I didn’t get a degree. I have a diploma which allows me to teach secretarial subjects, but no other subjects. I cannot ever apply for a promotion to be a department head because, for that, I need a degree. And, another thing, even though I do the same work, my salary is less than any teacher who has a degree. So, think about that when you decide what you’re going to do. Your choices are very important to your future ability to progress. Do not limit yourself.”
I appreciated this advice. It definitely made a difference in helping me decide my future. So far, I always made choices to keep the doors open. Now, I had three options available — stop after grade 12 and work, continue on to college and receive a diploma, or continue on to university and receive a degree. I shouldn’t make a rash decision. I should think this through carefully. How much more time was I willing to invest in my education?
My mother saw me looking at my option sheet. She sat down at the table, across from me, and looked quite serious. She had a request, that she wanted me to take grade 13. I was surprised, what could her reasoning be? This made me quite curious and I asked her why. She said that, as long as I stayed in school, she would continue to receive mother’s allowance.
I had not considered that aspect of my decision. This would give my mom one more year of a dependable steady income. The family allowance monthly cheque would stop as soon as I turned 18 in September, but mother’s allowance would continue until I finished high school. Money was tight in our household. We had the basics but not much else. Our refrigerator sounded like a tractor, but we had no money to replace it. By spending one more year in high school, this would help my mom since her income was still very low, coming from part-time cleaning jobs and sporadic cook and waitress jobs. She also got a very small pension amount from my dad, about $50 a month. I could help my mother by staying in school for one more year, so that was another reason that could sway me to continue. I took all this advice into consideration.
That was the last bit of information I needed to help me make this decision. I would continue on to grade 13.
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In the meantime, Colleen, Joan and I were making plans for our graduation dance. Colleen and I wanted to have a date to go with, so we asked two guys to take us. I asked Ronnie, who was in grade 11. I didn’t know how or why I picked him, I didn’t know him very well. I didn’t even know why he accepted, but he did so that was good. Though Colleen did not have a steady boyfriend, she picked a friend to escort her. Joan decided to come with a group of friends instead of a date.
My mom made me a long, slim, light blue satin dress. I borrowed some elbow-length gloves from a friend. I bought a pair of satin shoes which I dyed to match the dress. And I wore light blue earrings, which I still have today, decades later. At least something still fits! I went to the hairdresser and had my hair styled to resemble a picture I found in a magazine. Colleen knew a friend of her parents who took professional photos of us at her house. I was pleased with how I looked, and it was an enjoyable evening.
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The coming Monday was July 1, the Canada Day holiday, so Glen said I should come in on Tuesday morning to start my new job. Now I had to wait three days. I was anxious to start as soon as possible. I had come through the past winter of sorrow and the doldrums of that dreary spring, but now my spirits were lifted so high above the clouds. I couldn’t believe it. I felt so lucky and fortunate. It was exactly the job I loved to do, and I would be receiving good pay for it. As I headed home, I felt like I was walking on sunshine and I could not quit smiling. I couldn’t wait until Tuesday.
And then, wouldn’t you know it, on Saturday morning I got a call from the tourist camp owner. He was in Dryden and would be around to pick me up in an hour.
In one day, I went from being bored and dejected, jobless and desperate, to becoming so lucky and landing a dream summer job. I was actually in a position to turn down a job. It reminded me of the saying, “It’s always darkest before the dawn.”
“Sorry,” I told the camp owner, “I have taken another job for the summer and I won’t be coming to work for you.”
“What do you mean?” he shouted into the phone. “You can’t do this.” He was livid.
My big new job seemed to give me some new confidence, if only just a bit. My heart started to race, I felt perturbed and even a touch angry. And so I shot back, “I’ve been waiting here for almost three weeks, you didn’t come. I can’t sit here forever. I wasn’t sure if you would ever get here.”
The camp owner was noticeably angry with me. “Well, you’ll never get a job with me again. Now I have to try to find someone else. You have really let me down.” He hung up with a bang.
I was sorry to disappoint him, but was not overly concerned about the situation. It wasn’t fair for me to leave him in the lurch, but it also wasn’t fair for him to leave me waiting, leave me hanging, for so long. Obviously, I wasn’t a priority to him, I didn’t think he should be a priority for me either.
Plus, my current happiness and elation eclipsed any other possible feelings.
I felt like I was the luckiest girl in town. And wasn’t it fortunate for me that it took the camp owner so long to pick me up. If he had shown up two days earlier, I would have been gone away for the summer and would have missed out on the best summer job ever. Also, who knew what that summer job would have been like, out in the remote wilderness. I had only that one girl’s opinion to go by. This camp owner might have been difficult to work for, and I would have been stuck out in the middle of nowhere until September.
I still couldn’t get over my good fortune. The seasons were changing. My recent terrible winter of tragedy was turning into the best summer for me. It was amazing how quickly things can change. Unfortunately, Marg was not having a good time of it. She was still in deep mourning for her loss, and I felt badly for her.
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Every morning when I walked through the alley ways of the mill to that back office, that same group of men were always sitting there around the paper machines having their coffee. They whistled and cheered at me. They stared at me for about five minutes while I was in their sight, before I disappeared around the corner at the other end of that open area.
I didn’t wave back because I didn’t know them, and I felt that I shouldn’t encourage them. But I loved the attention. I was nicely dressed for the office, I felt attractive and special and held my head high. And I always smiled. I was shy but I liked it. I knew that kind of treatment towards a woman was considered to be demeaning and sexist, but I didn’t think so. I quite enjoyed it. It was a highlight of my day, and I looked forward to it. I even blushed a little bit, but I loved it.
“Just keep on whistling, fellows!” I wanted to yell to them, but of course didn’t. What a wonderful way to start each morning.
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My grade 12 graduation dance photo.
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