I’m going to start by saying this lengthy post was triggered by something that I heard on Drew Carey’s Friday Night Freak-Out. The song will appear later, but first I must say that we were all young once, and maybe more than once.
Boys and girls alike get crushes on teachers, especially when the teacher is a young woman. Such was the subject of this movie over 90 years ago, which is now one of the best remembered and beloved of all the Our Gang comedies.
Fifty years later, when Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” hit MTV, conservatives saw it as proof that American society was degenerate and going to Hell. I remember Senator Bob Dole in particular stating that he was appalled by it. That was 40 years ago, and “Hot for Teacher” hasn’t aged well post-metoo, but we’re still here.
In recent years there have been numerous stories in the news about improper contact between teachers and students, and I don’t know whether or not this activity is more common today than in the past. I know for a fact it went on when I was in high school.
I now need to backtrack and tell about my family moving from Connecticut to Massachusetts, a few weeks after I turned thirteen, at the start of 8th grade. One regret about the move I wasn’t aware of until much later. It’s explained here.
Another regret was something I was all too aware of at the time. My own “hot for teacher” experience.
Having been born at the peak of the Baby Boom, every school I attended was overcrowded. Classes were held in portable classrooms and, when those weren’t enough, in auditoriums. Along with that was a rush by school administrators to hire more teachers, as quickly as possible.
My 8th grade history class was held in the school’s auditorium, with other classes in other sections of the room. The teacher was jaw-dropping to behold. She was young, short, blonde, exceptionally pretty, and really built, to be blunt about it. She was also very personable in her voice and her mannerisms. The boys in class, myself very much included, weren’t just smitten, we were in breathless awe of her. I recall she was addressed as “Mrs.”, whether or not she was actually married.
After the initial shock of our unexpected good luck had worn off, one of the boys in the history class started a rumor that our teacher had appeared in Playboy. At this point I must stop to tell of my youthful history with the once-popular, semi-respected, but now denigrated, publication.
At the start of 7th grade, my mother angrily threw out all of my comic books. This is a very painful memory for me to recount. She said that I was too “preoccupied” with them, but the real impetus behind her anger was that I had managed to procure a few issues of Playboy. Literally a few, but they were enough to enrage my mother.
The issue of Playboy I remember the best was from July, 1967, with Anne Randall on the cover. [CORRECTION: The cover girl is Venita Wolf]
Now let’s jump ahead, to the summer before the start of 8th grade. My mother insisted that we all go to see the movie Yours, Mine, and Ours, with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda. Mom liked Lucy, and the premise of a house filled with kids was to her liking, with our family having six children.
I thought the movie was incredibly boring, except for seeing Morgan Brittany. One scene stopped me cold. Lucy found one of her sons with a copy of Playboy. The very same July, 1967 issue that had been my prized forbidden possession, before being consigned to the trash by my mother. I wanted to slide down onto the floor of the movie theater when I saw that.
So what about the rumor that our teacher had appeared in Playboy? Obviously, the kid must have been full of it. Giving us the business, as they used to say on Leave It To Beaver. Until he brought in the issue.
His older brother had a large Playboy collection, and he went through every back issue until the impossible happened. He found our teacher in one of those “The Girls of [name the university] Campus” features.
The auditorium setting for class made it relatively easy to hide the magazine as we boys each gaped in wide-eyed wonder. She hadn’t been a centerfold, but there she was, in full color, looking pretty much the same, except without clothes. I wish I could remember the issue, or even the year, but I only had that one brief view of confirmation.
I had to appreciate her while I could, because we would be moving in a few days! I couldn’t believe it. Why did we have to be moving?
As an adult I wondered if the school knew about my teacher’s past exposure when she was hired. Even if they did know, considering the desperate need for teachers at the time, it must not have disqualified her from the job.
Okay, now I’m ready to proceed to the song that inspired this TMI confessional post. Those who are offended by what can be considered exploitative, sexist displays are strongly advised against watching this video.
If you watched it I can confirm that uh, yeah, this sort of discomfort for boys also happens. Remember the “girlfriend back home” with the terrible stepfather from a previous blog entry? I was 17 when we started dating, she was 16, and her mother was… wait for it… 32.
In the late 60’s there was a TV commercial, that I can’t find online, with the premise that a teenage boy mistakes his girlfriend’s mother for his girlfriend. I think it was for dishwashing liquid. The mother was flattered by the unexpected attention. Well, that was sort of how it was for me at that house.
Now here’s the kicker. About fifteen years ago, my long-ago girlfriend’s mother managed to find me. She got in touch and asked for my phone number. To play it safe I gave her my work number. She would be in the area for a few weeks, and she wanted to meet for coffee. We agreed on a time and place and had a long and very useful talk about what happened between myself, her ex-husband, and her daughter so many years before.
P.S. How did that kid know about our teacher? He must have been tipped off, which means somebody knew she had appeared in the magazine. The father of a girl I knew at that school was a teacher there. He was a shop instructor, and I made a metal ash tray in his class. Perhaps he was the source of the leak?
Hal Roach got his money’s worth with Leroy Shields’ music. He reused it endlessly for Our Gang and Laurel and Hardy.
Must have been an interesting conversation! Hey! You forgot Sting: “Don’t Stand So Close to Me.” Catchy.
I also wanted to thank you again for sending me that Beau Hunks CD when Molly was a newborn. Once everybody left, it (and TWoOz) kept me sane. Molly loved both, but especially “The Bells.” She’d smile and coo while I jiggled her. It was the only thing that made her stop crying. I was alone in the house with her, snowbound, for most of my maternity leave.