When my father came back to Iowa after the war, he did not resume his old wandering lifestyle. Instead, he became a 28-year-old college freshman taking advantage of the GI Bill. He didn’t ponder long what his career would be. He once told me that after surviving WWII every day he lived was a gift, and I know that he wanted to make those gifts to count for all his friends who did not return. He also wanted a good life and he wanted to make a difference in the world: teaching.
In 1950, freshly graduated from Iowa State Teachers College, Dad hired on at his first school in Ionia, Iowa. It was an auspicious and exciting start, even though the town’s population hovered somewhere in the vicinity of 250 with only seven or eight students per grade, three secondary teachers, and no indoor restrooms (although there was a sink for washing hands). The school was small enough that Dad became an educator-of-all-trades: he taught sociology, economics, world history, and American history; coached girls softball; and served as principal. During the years he taught in Ionia, he became friends with people in town, with the students, and when he left, he took one of the residents (my mother) with him.
In 1950, freshly graduated from Iowa State Teachers College, Dad hired on at his first school in Ionia, Iowa. It was an auspicious and exciting start, even though the town’s population hovered somewhere in the vicinity of 250 with only seven or eight students per grade, three secondary teachers, and no indoor restrooms (although there was a sink for washing hands). The school was small enough that Dad became an educator-of-all-trades: he taught sociology, economics, world history, and American history; coached girls softball; and served as principal. During the years he taught in Ionia, he became friends with people in town, with the students, and when he left, he took one of the residents (my mother) with him.
