Here's thanks for that Lathrop education

I'm not kidding about the head full of dreams. When I first walked into Lathrop High School in Fairbanks, I wanted to become a major league ball player. When I graduated, I wanted to live in Greenwich Village and meet the Beatniks -- especially Allen Ginsberg. I never did get a major league contract, but I lived in New York and met Ginsberg on 8th Street. It was a far bigger event for me than for the poet.

Lathrop, with about 1,000 students in those days, had numerous appealing qualities. The building was almost new, the pride of the community. There were some fine teachers who taught occasionally surprising courses -- we had an excellent Russian history class. In an era when many stateside schools were segregated, the school was completely integrated and provided opportunities for minority kids. The sports programs, from intramurals to varsity, were strong -- I wore myself out playing ball. There was a pervasive sense of optimism; America was going places and so were we. This was especially true after the election of John F. Kennedy in 1960.

The school also had qualities that I didn't admire then or have learned not to admire now. The teaching was often enough mind-numbing repetitive drill. A few of the teachers looked down on minority kids and did nothing to encourage them to learn. The principal was an alcoholic bully who terrified students. The higher ups at the school district finally removed him during my sophomore year. A certain amount of student bullying escaped the teachers attention.

The school had no plan or program for low achievers. If you flunked out, too bad for you. Join the army or wait tables. One of the dropouts from my class has probably the longest criminal record in modern Alaska history. He's in jail now. Alcohol was too prevalent in the social lives of upper classmen -- translated, my friends and yours truly. But this reflected the community, which may have led the universe in alcohol consumption per capita.

What kind of a boy was the kid with the head full of dreams? Well, for openers he was lazy, shy, and fearful that he would never meet other people's expectations, especially those of the opposite sex. He had little logical reasoning ability and therefore was hapless in the sciences and math. He only liked studying things that came easy -- history, government, literature.

He read books but only the ones he wanted to read, usually bought by his parents who had a house full of books. He's never going to read "Silas Marner" even if St. Peter makes it a prerequisite for passing through the pearly gates. He was both a conformist (his mother) and a rebel (his father), unable to reconcile the two. He still can't. He drove himself to despair agonizing over his parents' unhappy marriage -- it must have been all his fault, the boy thought -- and learned too early what happens when love dies.

He graduated in the middle of his class sure of only one thing: I'm leaving Fairbanks. He did, never understanding Fairbanks would never leave him.

Was he good at anything? Well, one thing. Making friends -- despite his shyness. He had friends among all the cliques, groups, organizations, races -- the guys who shot pool on Friday and the guys who prayed on Sunday. He was a democrat with a small "d" and already knew what became a guiding principle of his adult life: "People are who they are. You have to take them the way they show up." Part of being a democrat with a small "d" was giving the answers to the American history tests to the kids flunking the class.

Years later, a classmate whom he hadn't seen since the '60s said in an e-mail from California "I remember you because you were respectful of all the kids no matter who they were." Well, I tried.

I know I have been indulging myself with these autobiographical tales, but I do have a higher purpose. I want to say thank you to the people in Fairbanks who offered me an education. They provided a foundation for living a life in New York, Boston, North Carolina and ultimately Anchorage. Until those unopened letters from Social Security and Medicare began piling up, I'm ashamed to say, I failed to recognize their gift.

Michael Carey is the former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News. He can be reached at mcarey@adn.com.