My Jungle Scholastic Journey Ends.

*This memory is a continuation of the 'Teenage Cleavage' memory.

Bathurst Heights Secondary School would be my final school that I would be attending. I started grade 10 in September of 1975 and within three years my Jungle scholastic journey would finally be coming to an end after nine long years.

There were very few kids living in the Jungle who would be getting a post-secondary education. There were many kids that never even earned a high school diploma, electing instead to quit school early to go work at some fast food joint or factory. Like them a post-secondary education was never part of my future either. However, unlike them I would be sticking it out and graduating high school. I would indeed be earning my diploma and it was not so much because I wanted to, it was because I had to.

It was one of my mother’s carved in stone rules and I could never understand just how adamant she was about me graduating high school. But now when I look back, I am sure glad she did.

Although a high school diploma does not get a kid much these days. Back then my diploma vaulted me into an income level that even some of my friends with a post-secondary education were not earning. Had I never graduated high school, I have no doubt my life would have been so much different and not for the better. All three of my first full-time jobs were low income minimum wage jobs and I am positive that trend would have just continued on. That is until the day I was hired on with Canada Packers who back then only hired new workers with a minimum high school diploma.

And like they say, the rest is history.

If I could go back in time I think I might have pursued a post-secondary education. But then again everything worked out pretty good for me, so maybe not.

Seriously, a post-secondary education was never even an option for me. All my mother ever cared about was that her two sons followed in her God fearing footsteps and that we both dedicated our lives to her God Jehovah. There was never any guidance, never any options or choices towards another career path and maybe a better future.

Most importantly there was never any education savings put away for either my brother or me.

Maybe had my mother spent less time in her ministry and got a full-time job then things might have been different. She would have earned more money and perhaps there would have been a few more options for me and my brother. But then again, knowing my mother like I did she just would have funneled more money into the contribution box at our Kingdom Hall.

Anyways, that is another story.

Bathurst Heights was one of the largest schools in Toronto when I started attending back in the fall of 1975. It was a big school both in size and enrollment. For the most part the student body was a combination of Jungle bunnies and Jewish students. Bathurst Street was just east of the school and is the largest predominately Jewish area in the city.

Jews and Jungle bunnies seemed to be working out just fine back in the mid-70's.

It was also around this time that the demographics of Lawrence Heights were starting to change rather quickly. Lawrence Heights was now seeing an influx of black families moving in. When I moved into Lawrence Heights six years earlier, black families were very few and far between. Now it seemed like every time a white family moved out there was another black family moving in. By the time I graduated from Bathurst Heights there were very few Jewish students left. Many of them told me that they would never attend a 'black' school and that they would be finding another school, which most of them did.

Within twenty-three years after I graduated, Bathurst Heights would close its doors as a public school due to declining enrollment. It was so sad to see such a big school and one I had attended just sitting dormant for years on Lawrence Avenue.

Lawrence Heights was now a predominately black neighborhood and not enough black kids were going to high school. Before Bathurst Heights closed they tried everything to boost enrollment. I remember seeing a sign offering free daycare inside the school encouraging kids with kids to enroll. For a period Bathurst also offered an adult education program. It gave adults living in Lawrence Heights the opportunity to go back to school and earn their high school diploma.

Nothing seemed to work and in 2001 Bathurst Heights eventually closed for good,

While at Bathurst I was introduced to some new subjects and I was no longer interested in art, music or typing. Instead I would now be learning auto body, electricity and accounting. I was no longer taking a metal shop class, but I was now signed up for a daily period of woodshop which I enjoyed so much more.

The woodworking class will forever hold a fond memory of my mother.

In the mid-70's money was very scarce and the school board was now asking students to pay for a percentage of the wood that they would be using for their projects. Although as scarce as money was for the school board, it was even scarcer back at my house.

My mother had always wanted a large bookcase to hold all of her Witness literature and I offered to build her one. She was ecstatic that she would finally have her bookcase and better still her firstborn would be building it. It would cost my mother thirty bucks for the mahogany veneer particle board I would be using. Without any hesitation she paid the money and the wood was delivered to the school. On top of paying for the wood there would also be stain, hinges and knobs she would need to buy.

The heavy bookcase was massive, not so much in height but in width. It was only about three feet high, but it was almost five feet wide. It took me months to build and to put it bluntly it was a total shit show. On the bottom portion I left too much open space. The one shelf I did build was too small and I should have added another shelf. I also made four spindles on the wood lathe and one of the spindles I put on upside down. While cutting the wood I used the wrong saw blade which ripped off the veneer on all of the cut edges. I tried to cover it up with a stain, but that only made it look much worse. I didn't put the knobs on evenly and it could have used an extra set of hinges.

No worries, my mother absolutely loved her new bookcase that I had built for her.

My wood teacher had given me a just above passing mark for my project. He told me that I had rushed through the project without drawing up any plans. I disagreed with him about rushing through the project, but he was right about the plans.

There were none.

My mother moved three times after we left the Jungle. Each time she moved it was to a smaller apartment geared towards senior living. In each of those apartments she proudly had the large bookcase that I built sitting in her living room. That bookcase was the only thing I can ever recall making for my mother in school. She never had a fireplace; otherwise that is where it should have ended up.

Secondary high school was supposed to be a student’s stepping stone into adulthood. Students who wanted to learn needed to apply themselves as their marks would determine their acceptance into university or college. For me secondary school was the opportunity to simply blow off an afternoon skipping classes to go shoot pool. I spent a lot of time shooting pool at the Seven Star Billiards in the Lawrence Plaza when I should have been in school.

Too much time actually.

I remember on one report card the number of classes I had missed in auto body shop were higher than my actual mark. Even to this day, I still can’t believe that I never buckled down like I should have. I knew my mother would always be attending the parent teacher meetings. I knew I would eventually be paying for my laziness, tardiness and stupidity. Once my mother got wind of my minimal scholastic efforts, I spent many weeks grounded while attending Bathurst Heights.

I wish now I would have taken my education a lot more seriously, but as the years wound down and before I could say rack em' up.

I was done.

Sure, I had just gotten by with the bare minimum, but I had my diploma in my hand. For my mother that was all that mattered and she was happy.

And if she was happy then I was happy.