What does this have to do with my science class?

Ranching is not for me.
Junior high L A County 1958.
I had Mr. Macintyre’s eight grade science class fourth period just before lunch break. We were all just settling in at our desks when Mr. Byerman, a tall red hair and bespectacled no non-sense teacher with a public-address speaker like voice came to Mac’s science class and requested that all boys follow him up to the audio/visual room in an upper room above the second story of the building. This interruption was no surprise to Mr. Mac. So off we went. About a dozen of us teen boys. Mr. Byerman was not only my previous seventh-grade math teacher but the audio/visual manager/operator at our school as well.
We made our way upstairs to a darkened room, found a chair to sit in and sat down. Shortly there began a movie projecting from a large Bell and Howell movie projector at the rear of the room on to a roll-down screen and the movie began with no explanation from Mr. Byerman.
Suddenly there appeared on the screen a field of cows grazing and mooing. Then all of a sudden, a large bull with long horns mounted a girl cow. Couldn’t really tell what was going on. I asked a boy sitting next to me what is this all about. He said not really sure but shut-up and watch. Some others seemed as confused as I was. I really don’t want to be a cow farmer. Charlie, just shut up and watch. This same scene appeared once again. Then the so-called movie ended. Again, without explanation from Mr. Byerman.
I gave it some thought and concluded we had no room in our backyard to raise cows. There was a grassy space in the back about fifty by twenty feet of grass. My mom’s clothesline was back there and would not be a good place to grow cows. My mother while hanging out wet laundry might step in some cow stuff and track it back into our house. What a smelly mess that would be.
It took many years after to figure out what Mr. Byerman was trying to tell us. Someone mentioned it all about the birds and the bees. Then I had to figure out the meaning of “the birds and the bees.” Whew! Growing up in those days was not easy.

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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