The desks were in rows, maybe seven or eight (?) across the width of the room and maybe five or six desks in each row.  So, the class was about 45 students or so, I guess.   His desk was positioned center where his back was next to the windows.   Each desk had a flat back chair and a typewriter.  We had our typing books, that would stand propped up in an inverted V to our right that contained the exercises and tests, practicing the use of different keys, progressing along, adding more and more key combinations.   Our posture was critical. We had sit erect, with the right foot slightly in front of the left, feet flat on the floor.  Wrists never were to touch the typewriter, and long fingernails were forbidden.   I remember using yellow typing paper, and we would fold it in half, creasing, licking and tearing the paper so as to get two practice assignments on one sheet of paper.  

 

     But Mr. Lively had his own method of teaching.  You were only allowed three mistakes on an exercise, no strike-overs or white-outs; and if you messed up, you had to start over, even if you were at the end.  He had a rule that when you did start over, you best not ever crumple or wad your paper!  It was to be folded in half (remember, you're only using a half a sheet of paper) before putting in the trash can. I remember his explanation, that a flat sheet of paper in the trash looked less wasteful than a wadded sheet. If you forgot and wadded instead of folded, you may very well find yourself standing in the wastepaper basket for the rest of the period.

 

    Other rules of discipline, you were not allowed to talk, period.  If you were caught talking in class or whispering to your neighbor, you were given a squeeze doll that squeaked.  You were then promptly sent outside the room to the hall or in front of the teachers' lounge door or even right outside the cafeteria if near lunchtime, and you had to stand there and squeeze your doll.  I don't remember for how long, but it was long enough. 

 

  Gum chewing -- oh, you best not.   That infraction would get you in the corner of the room with the sticky gum placed firmly on the end of your nose. 

 

   Probably today the kids would not find these things as any sort of deterrent to  misbehave, but believe me, then, we would be mortified to endure such humiliation. 

 

   But Mr. Lively was always very kind to the students, would always ask how they were doing when he would pass them in the halls, always had a smile or a joke, and was genuinely interested in anything going on in their life that a student might want to share, as were most of the teachers.  It was truly a "village raise the child" mentality in those days.

 

   It was well known in the city that if one of Mr. Lively's ex students applied for a job at the same time as a student from any other school, his student would get the job much quicker because the employers knew he demanded nothing less than total professionalism, accuracy, and pride. 

 

  If I'm not mistaken, I think he retired maybe the year or year after I graduated ('65 or '66) and I had heard that he passed away very shortly after that.   He's one that his influence on his students who were fortunate enough to attend his classes lasted a lifetime.

 

Sherry Moyer Sharp

SP-65