If you would like to post favorite a memory, send an email to Jimmy or Monty and
we will see that it is posted. Submit as many memories as you wish....
The attached photo is Mrs. Ernul's 3rd Grade Frayser Elementary class in 1961-62.
Names of the little innocents:
Kathy ?, Debbie Fitts, James ?, Donnie ?, Faith Pryor, Janice
Submitted by Marsha Terry Rider 1971
|Junior High Team 1966---A very serious looking group,,,,,,note Coach Cunningham's name is mis-spelled|
Corrected Title for Jr.High Football Team:
Front Row: Donnie Davis, Andy Kitchens, Billy Gipson, Randy Byrd,
Danny West, Allen Wilson, Lewis Ray, Dewayne Jolly, Coach Cunningham
Article on Watson Davis aka "SIVAD" by Bill Dries of the Commercial Appeal 3/25/05
Jr Achievement submitted by Jeannine Paullus Scrip
Images submitted by Doug Jones
For those of us who remember Sgt. Major Mancuso, our first
So, on this bright beautiful spring morning of our sophomore
On this particular morning, Sgt. Major Mancuso was interested
On about the fourth or fifth answer by the young cadets
of "I don't know"
Several words not printable and a choir of verbal attacks
by Sgt. Major
Immediately, Sgt. Mancuso called on Ronnie Scates, and
again asked the
At this point Ronnie jumped to his feet, came to attention,
snapped his heels
submitted by Allen Wilson
|From: TONIE PARKER 1974 Apr 30 2002 7:12:00AM
To: DAVID FLYNN 1974
(12) Memorable Teachers Classmates.com
I don't even remember Ms. Salyer. (But then, there's
My folks are good friends with Sgt Major Mancuso.
I don't know if everyone really knew all the interesting,
They were friends with Coach Medling too until he died.
Those were the good ole, never a dull moment days!
|The geography teacher (a coach) named I believe it was Medders or something like that, young, tall and soooo cute...well anyway...I drew a map on my desk to peek at during a test (intending to cheat) and we didn't have a question that pertained to that silly map...he asked me after class if I had drawn it...I denied it looking him straight in the eye....about 10 years ago I had to look him up and confess, couldn't stand being a liar anymore...he was so pleased that I confessed..said he guessed he had made an impact on at least one student anyway...boy do I feel better now....nancy black shockley|
Melissa Nabors '71
10 yr ReUnionPicnic
BLOOD & the Little People
As a Sophmore on the Football team, Coach Medlin decided
I was quite satisfied that my head had not been DECAPITATED. I felt pain, so I knew my head was probably still connected to my torso.
I was losing much blood. It looked worse than it hurt. Coach Medling ,with his much Wisdom and experience in Healing knew exactly what to do, he hollered "Burk...Go get cleaned up, you're bleeding.... and get back out Here."
SO, off to the gym I went, bleeding along the way.
As I entered the locker room, I passed Coach Cunningham, with the Little People (junior high team), sitting on the floor listening to his much Wisdom. Coach Cunningham looked at me,,,,being now drenched in red by this time, and asked if I wanted to be taken to the doctor.
I said, "No, Coach Medling said just to clean up and get back on the Field"
..... well Coach Cunningham, lifted his chest, Grew about a foot, and turned to the little ones and hollered, "BOYS.....this is how it is in the real world,,,you gotta play thru the pain...you gotta suck it up and ...........on and ...on"
I cleaned up, and walked back past the Little Ones,,,there was now FEAR in their Eyes as Coach Cunningham continued to Pontificate how brave they needed to be to play this Game of Football, thru all the pain.
I truly believe they thought we were killing each other on the senior high team, probably using knives ....... Coach Cunningham was loving it...
By the way, Stan was worried about me,,and also happy that he didn't kill me on that particular day..
|DODGING THE ISSUE
By Bill Haltom
Thirty-five years ago when I was in junior high school, I wasn't much of an athlete. I was five feet six inches tall and weighed 120 pounds soaking wet. I was so skinny I had to run around in the boys shower to get wet.
I could have been a pretty good soccer player. But at Frayser Junior High School in 1966, soccer was regarded as the sports equivalent of an alternative lifestyle. If you said you wanted to play soccer at Frayser Junior High School in 1966, you might as well have announced that you wanted to play chess or be on the debate team. For that matter, you might as well have announced that you wanted to move to San Francisco and join a lacrosse team.
The athletic director at Frayser Junior High School was Coach Will Medling. He believed in soccer about as much as he believed in the United Nations. He believed that what made America great was football in the fall, basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring, just as God had intended it. (See Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3.)
I desperately wanted to be a great athlete. And so I tried out for Coach Medling's teams only to be cut during tryouts or to spend the season collecting splinters.
But there was one other sport Coach Medling loved. And miraculously, it was a sport I excelled in. The sport was dodge ball.
In addition to being coach of the Frayser Junior High School Fighting Rams football, basketball, and baseball teams, Coach Medling also had the arduous assignment of teaching a course called Physical Education. For one hour each day, all boys in the seventh and eighth grades at Frayser Junior High School would assemble in the gymnasium to be instructed in the finer points of physical education by Coach Medling, despite the fact that Coach Medling was built like Orson Welles and obviously hadn't done a sit-up since Word War II.
Coach Medling's physical education class did not feature lectures. There was no syllabus or reading list or written examination. In fact, there was only one activity in Coach Medling's P.E. class. The activity was dodge ball.
Each day Coach Medling would convene his P.E. class by blowing his whistle to bring all seventh and eighth grade boys to attention. He would then solemnly announce, Let's play dodge ball!
At this point, I and 47 of my classmates would assemble in the middle of the basketball court as if we were about to face a firing squad.
Coach Medling would then hand the volleyball to one of my classmates, Peewee Ray. Peewee was far and away the biggest kid in eighth grade. He stood over six feet tall and weighed about 230 pounds. Thatís why we called him Peewee. At Frayser Junior High School, the student body was known for its dry, understated humor and sense of irony.
Peewee would take the volleyball in his right hand, hold it as if it were a cantaloupe, and then carefully aim it toward the basketball court where I and my 47 classmates were huddled.
Peewee would then hurl the volleyball as if he were Bob Gibson throwing a fastball high and inside at a batter who was crowding the plate. Traveling at an approximate speed of 200 miles per hour, the volleyball would then strike one of my poor classmates in the head, causing either a fractured skull or a major concussion. The impact would be approximately the same as a frontal lobotomy.
The poor schmuck who was hit by Peewee's first throw would then either be taken by ambulance to the hospital (or the morgue), or he would limp up alongside Peewee. Peewee would then hand him the volleyball so that he, like Peewee, could knock the ever-living aspirations out of one of his classmates. And when the next victim was struck down, he too would come to the sidelines so that he could become one of the assaulters rather than the asssaultees.
The object of the game of dodge ball was to be the last man left standing on the basketball court. It was like a human demolition derby.
Well, I couldn't dribble a basketball except off my foot. I couldn't hit a fastball or a slow-pitch softball, for that matter. And my only role on the football team was to serve as a human tackling dummy. But boy could I play dodge ball. I was the Michael Jordan of dodge ball.
The secret to my great dodge ball game was simple. I was so small that I could just hide behind all of the other guys until I was the last man standing.
Itís a crying shame dodge ball never became an Olympic sport. I would have won a gold medal. And, unfortunately, there is no such thing as the National Dodge Ball Association. If so, I could have had a major league career with the Los Angeles Dodgers.
I thought about my dodge ball career earlier this week, when I read in the newspaper that dodge ball has now been banned by school boards in Massachusetts, Texas, Maryland, New York, and Virginia. Why? Well, according to the article that first appeared in the Boston Globe, some educators feel that dodge ball traumatizes childrenî and ìpromotes intimidation. These educators advocate kinder and gentler physical education classes featuring such activities as dancing and gymnastics.
Well I don't know where Coach Medling is these days. Heís probably in that big gym in the sky organizing a dodge ball game featuring David and Goliath. But I can tell you this. If the school board had told Coach Medling in 1966 that he needed to replace dodge ball with interpretive dance, I know exactly what he would have done. He would have summoned Peewee, handed him a volleyball, and told him to hit the school board chairman right between the eyes.
Bill Haltom is a partner in the law firm of Thomason Hendrix Harvey Johnson & Mitchell and a past president of the Memphis Bar Association.
Frayser Jr./Sr. High School, 7th grade, Memphis Tennessee, first class
Today, I'm not sure people realize how
|Frayser Ribbon Submitted by Alan Ray Burk|