My Life in Milwaukee Public Schools: Kindergarten to Retirement

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© 2005 Michael Wenzel. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 08/05/2021

ISBN: 978-1-4208-3609-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-3610-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-9795-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005901669

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

One – Starting Out: In The Beginning

Two – Junior High School: Grades Seven through Nine

Three – Boys’ Tech High School

Four – UW-Milwaukee and MPS vs. Private Schools

Five – Substitute Teaching in MPS

Six – The 1970s: A Beginning

Seven – THE 1980s: A BUSY TIME

Eight – The Merry-Go-Round Begins

Nine – Limping to the Finish Line

Ten – The Historic Legendary South Stadium

Eleven – The Recreational Side of the Job

Twelve – Wenzel’s Wrestling Association

Thirteen – Referee, Umpire and High School Coach

Fourteen – The Old Swimming Hole

Fifteen – Engineers I Have Known

Sixteen – Room At The Top: Administrators

Seventeen – The Room With No View: Evaluation

Eighteen – The Room with No Answers: Discipline

Nineteen – Zero + Zero = School Board

Twenty – Thank You Very Much

Twenty-One – Code 79: Call in Immediately

Twenty-Two – Athletic Awards for Kids

Twenty-Three – Runners and Jumpers

Twenty-Four – Did They Really Say That

Twenty-Five – Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

Twenty-Six – Where Do We Go From Here?

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all the hard working

children and adults who I worked with every day

in the Milwaukee Public School System.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For 50 years, I got up each morning and invariably did something that day that involved the Milwaukee Public Schools.

To the grade school teachers extraordinaire, like Miss Lamers, Miss Fingers and Mr. Schmidt: You introduced me to goals I strived to achieve: hard work and outstanding work ethics.

Mr. Braun, gym teacher, stadium manager, father figure, friend: I wouldn’t have endured without having known you.

To Stefanie Scott for valuable editing services, thank you!

Coach Jaskulski: I wouldn’t have gotten through high school without your caring and kindness.

To all the great friends in MPS including co-workers and students, it’s because of you that this book has been written. In no way have the changes had anything to do with you.

Mom and Dad: I miss you each day, and I am grateful for the values and common sense you instilled in me.

Marge, Marcus and Morgan: You are the loves of my life.

To Janice, Pete Rintelman, Mrs. Rintelman, Melissa, Dave Hojnacki, Kevin Fischer and John Urban: My eternal and humble gratitude. Without your help and support during many difficult periods, this book would not have reached completion.

Finally, to those students, teachers, coaches and administrators who comprise up the school system today: Continue to fight hard for the changes that are still shaping the future of the public schools. Make these changes every day so that the Milwaukee Public Schools can return to the images remembered by a 5-year-old kindergartner more than 50 years ago when he started his life in the Milwaukee Public Schools.

PREFACE

As a broadcast journalist at the time, I can clearly recall that I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.

The Milwaukee Rotary Club luncheon meeting that afternoon in the early 90’s was packed to hear Howard Fuller, who had the unenviable position of having just been selected as the new Superintendent for the Milwaukee Public Schools.

As a reporter on assignment for WTMJ-AM in Milwaukee, I was there, rolling my tape recorder, as Fuller stood onstage, addressing over 500 skeptical business people. After all, the relationship between the city’s business and education communities historically had been tepid, at best. So if Fuller came bearing some magic formula of success for the troubled Milwaukee schools, it was bound to fall on doubtful, if not deaf ears.

Of course, Fuller offered his vision for MPS, but then came the eye-opener, a reporter’s dream, the sound bite extraordinaire: MPS is a failing school system! Fuller said unabashedly. Armed with one embarrassing statistic after another, Fuller proceeded to blast all that’s wrong with a school system that has become the inspiration for the voucher movement that was born in Milwaukee.

The typical, knee-jerk, standard reaction from teachers and educrats to such an indicting statement would generally be that there’s nothing wrong with MPS, the system’s just fine, we don’t need radical change, and how dare you bash us.

But don’t include Michael Wenzel in that crowd.

I’ve known Wenzel for over 30 years.

The Milwaukee Public School system has dominated Wenzel’s life. From the tender age of 5 as a student until these, his final few years as an MPS physical education instructor, MPS has been Wenzel’s bloodstream.

He has witnessed firsthand the slow, agonizing decline of a once-proud school system.

Students who at one time were absent because of colds or the flu are now missing Wenzel’s class because they had to make breakfast for mom and her boyfriend who were too high on drugs to plug in a toaster.

Perfect attendance? What’s that?

Grade point averages have taken a nosedive.

Kids just don’t fight with other kids. They now assault their teachers.

Gunshots no longer raise eyebrows.

Parental involvement is non-existent.

Collectively, teachers have been criticized for appearing to care more about the size of their next contract than the size of their graduating classes.

Wenzel has seen it all, which makes him an extremely legitimate candidate to give an insider’s account of the factors that lead to the fall of a once –successful school system. What follows is that account, from young lad to today.

Keep in mind Wenzel hates what has happened to MPS. But this is not some right-wing conservative, public school/teacher bashing talk show host. This is a lifelong educator, who’s devoted his entire career to giving guidance to our most prized commodity, our children.

One of the biggest misconceptions about critics of our public schools is that they want to destroy public education, that they have an agenda that thrives on the failure of public schools.

How absurd!

Wenzel shares his lifetime experiences with MPS because he realizes the ultimate importance of public education in America. If our schools fail, we all fail.

In the truest sense of a teacher, Wenzel points out MPS’s failures in the hopes we can possibly learn from what we’ve done wrong, and maybe, just maybe return to the days when kids had books, not weapons, in their backpacks….. when kids were taught grades actually do matter, not just their feelings…….when schools put more money into classrooms than bloated bureaucracies……..and when parents didn’t just drop their children off for the day, but worried about what happens to them from the opening bell to dismissal.

Kevin Fischer served as Communications Director for Republicans in the Wisconsin State Senate. He’s a former News Director for WTMJ-AM and WUWM-FM in Milwaukee, and has won numerous journalism awards. He’s also a regular panelist on Milwaukee Public Television’s weekly roundtable discussion program, "InterCHANGE."

INTRODUCTION

Writing about the school system in Milwaukee really was a chance to take a trip through my own lifetime, kindergarten student to retiring teacher. It begins as an innocent five-year-old and ends as a senior citizen, having spent over three decades teaching and coaching kids. This chronicle of events can’t be said to be fact or fiction. But each event did actually happen. My memory of these situations is mentioned because it influenced me at the time, and made enough of an impression that I can still write about it long after it actually happened.

In no way am I trying to take cheap shots at anyone. Yet without mentioning any names, many employees of the Milwaukee Public Schools and people who follow the school system will figure out who might have been part of these events. Guess that is why it’s called public schools, people are open to the public’s point of view to whatever decisions they make. My point of view is just that, what I thought, when it happened.

I’m going to try to be fair as this look at events moves on. I’m expecting good happy events to be the way I’d remember this lifetime. Yet there are going to be chapters that will honestly show how I felt when things occurred that weren’t happy events at all. How the stories will unfold are my reason for writing this book in the first place.

Finally I want to thank the classmates, teammates, coaches, teachers, administrators, colleagues and most of all students who are this book, and the Milwaukee Public Schools. If you find yourself portrayed in this book please take no offense, no offense intended. I truly hope you can smile and enjoy the anecdote portrayed. If you can’t smile, take a fair look at what is being said, and try to see why I might have arrived at the conclusion I did write about. Hopefully, I will make points both good and bad that can be used by anyone who might bump into the same career somewhere along the way of the journey through life –The educators who are the Milwaukee Public Schools and the children who are the reason we are here!

CHAPTER ONE

Starting Out: In The Beginning

I still recall memories about Forest Home Avenue grade school. I’m not going to insult anyone’s intelligence and tell you that the following is a perfect account. Still, I remember things about each year of elementary school, and I have my old report cards, books, autograph books and a sister who attended the same school to back me up. There are pictures of each class with the names of friends and foes alike.

Honestly, I can remember my first day of kindergarten and how carefully Mother got me ready to face the world. Everything was neat and clean - nails trimmed, clothes pressed. I was perfect to present to my teacher.

My teacher was a veteran of 20-plus years, recently married and as wonderful as a kindergarten teacher could be. She instilled confidence and basic skills while making sure we were prepared daily for our next great adventure. It was made clear that we should help ourselves, a lesson never forgotten. We knew when she was proud of us, and why sometimes she might be disappointed - I preferred the former.

We did have a kindergarten graduation. Our teacher was proud, but now we were headed for bigger and better things, and we would be expected to do much more. Looking back, that is exactly what a parent and child should expect. Naptime was over. Playtime was going to become gym class. I couldn’t wait.

First Grade

First grade was really tough. There was much more to learn and even homework assigned everyday. Once again, I got lucky. My first-grade teacher was another special lady. Another veteran of teaching, she was younger than my last teacher with kids of her own. Here was a lady with a real knack for making each child feel special.

We didn’t want to make her feel bad about her class, so there was little disruption. This was a real talent that Milwaukee teachers seemed to really have at their disposal. I can’t remember a major confrontation at any time in my first-grade class. Kids who needed discipline were dealt with quietly, firmly and fairly. A couple of classmates parents did have to come in during the school day to meet with the teacher. I can’t say this happened more than twice. At this point we still had never seen our principal about discipline matters.

First grade also marked my most embarrassing memory of grade school. I wasn’t able to make it to the bathroom one day, which tends to occur at a young age. My wonderful first grade teacher saved the day. I was allowed to stay in an area of the class where none of the kids would find out about it and make fun of me. The school called my mother, and she brought me a change of clothes within minutes. We lived a block from school, and I know mom hustled over so I could save face, so to speak.

In later years, this so-called disaster proved amusing to my teacher when I worked recreation at the school. No emotional trauma. No pain.

Second Grade

Second grade proved the most difficult and traumatic year of grade school. It was also the year that I learned the most about my abilities. Again a veteran teacher, with more than 30 years experience, was assigned the task of moving me on to bigger things. This lady was single and school was her life. She went on to be an MPS principal for more than a decade before passing, rather than retiring. Miss Dix was in this for life.

Our class was going to learn this year, guaranteed. She had a demanding style and expected results. She got them. If anyone strayed off path, parents were brought in to assist in changing the ways of the wayfaring student. We didn’t like it at the time, but years later we had to admit that it was for the best. We also realized how much she loved us by how she made students better themselves.

Second grade was the only year in school in which I was struck by my teacher. You can evaluate this problem for yourself. To this day I’m left-handed doing everything from throwing and batting that way. Day after day my backward, left-handed attempts at penmanship struck a nerve. Tapping the ruler in her hand transferred to tapping my desk. Finally, the ruler slap got my attention by slapping my left hand and the pencil was placed in my right hand. I stayed right-handed during penmanship class from that point.

She wrote a note telling my parents what she did and why as well as the results in my penmanship. Mom and Dad were told to contact her immediately if necessary. It wasn’t necessary; to this day I can write and print with either hand. It got my attention, and I had to concentrate. Physically, I was not injured in any way. If anything, I got more attention for trying it her way. Now go ahead and evaluate this horrible deed. Yes, if you tried this today the lawsuit and teacher would wind up in court. However, my parents were happy for the extra attention paid to me.

Third Grade

Happiest times in grade school, saddest times in grade school - this year hit both ends of an 8-year-old’s emotional spectrum. Both my third grade teachers were awesome. The first was a brand new, right-out-of-college, single woman whose energy and enthusiasm were shared by a classroom of kids who loved her like she loved us. The second was a 40-year veteran, who reminded me of my grandmother in many ways. We loved her, too. In fact, while one career was starting, the other would end shortly in retirement - The Circle of Life, as the Disney song says.

By this time, I was an excellent student. All subject areas came easily to me. We had a reading area where students could pick books to report on after we completed class work and homework. I was spending most of my days there alone, and it seemed like I was far ahead of everyone else. However, by the end of October my teacher told me this would no longer do. I needed to be challenged again.

My parents were called in for my first meeting with a teacher and principal. The year was 1957, and MPS followed a half-school year policy for the elementary grades. I was a grade 3B, so I was promoted to 3A, for the other half year of third grade. I moved to the class of a veteran teacher, new classmates at least a half-year older than me and new challenges ahead. It was agreed that I’d skip a half year due to my progress in third grade. My parents liked my progress, my lovely new teacher wanted to provide new challenges. I was going to like the idea of being her new talented student. Everyone liked it except me.

I left all my friends for kids whom I barely knew proving difficult for quite a while. I was no longer a big fish in a small pond, as my mom used to say. Instead, I was just another 3A - a bruise to my ego. The worst part: I would now fall between grades mid-year for the rest of my schooling. When I graduated from Boys Tech in January 1967, colleges weren’t saving any scholarships or funding for mid-year high school grads. Athletic teams were in the middle of their seasons, so joining college teams wasn’t an option. Placements were tough, too. Of course, an 8-year-old didn’t worry himself about stuff like that.

Fourth Grade

At this point, I was considered a Milwaukee Public Schools veteran student who gained a real understanding about how to take advantage of school. Sports and girls really became important, not necessarily in that order. I learned from impressive teachers who managed to stay well ahead of the eager young kids.

Fourth grade brought my first male teacher who made a major impact on me. Everyone loved this bright, young, athletic fourth-grade teacher. My cousins in high school still talked about him. He loved animals which became evident when we cared for a little zoo we had in science class. On weekends, the hamsters, guinea pigs, birds, squirrels, snakes, lizards and rabbits went home with the students as a lesson in responsibility.

This great young teacher was also very artistic. We learned to love our art projects and couldn’t wait for the next one. In second grade, people often asked What is it, when I drew simple objects. By fourth grade, I pictured my work as comparable to the great artists that we learned about in textbooks.

Still, the opportunity to participate in gym class ranked as the most memorable part of fourth grade. Physical education! Sports! Exercise! Tumbling! Ball games! Races! I loved it all! Up until this point, my teachers had occasionally taken us out to play and allowed recess, but there were no scheduled gym periods. We only saw the area’s physical education supervisor on an occasional, irregular basis.

So, our teacher became bigger than life leading gym class twice a week. Unlike today, Dad made sure I had gym shoes, sometimes I don’t know how he made ends meet, but he did.

Our teacher hit a baseball out of sight. He could beat us in a foot race, had a great jump shot and showed us all the right way to jump rope. Best of all, he loved our favorite game, dodgeball, as much as we did. It amazed the guys that the ball zoomed out of his hand upward of 100 miles per hour. Or so we imagined.

We even had time to notice the girls. It no longer seem strange that there were some young ladies with whom we wanted to spend more time. In fact, some of the girls already proved more athletic than some of the guys. Unfortunately, girls sports remained only a dream at this point. They had to play along with us. Of course, we all survived, and as mid-year end in January approached, the dreams moved straight ahead to fifth grade.

Fifth Grade

Fifth grade meant a second male teacher, and I was very excited about the prospects ahead. He was also young and full of energy, with probably five years of teaching experience. He was his own man, which impressed me, with his own interests and passions. He could play ball, too, but he never tried to show off. In class, hard but fair became rule of thumb. I don’t ever recall seeing him get overly excited or angry, but he made his point easily when warranted. He challenged our creative side encouraging us to use our imaginations. We became responsible for our actions, there was a whole different approach to learning and he made us realize that fact. I was always able to ask for advice, and he made sure to keep track of me after my dad’s death for many years. He remained a friend years later when we met at my first teacher’s convention.

Sixth Grade

Yes, MPS fans, by sixth grade sports and school had taken a backseat. Moving on up on the radar was that irresistible attraction to the opposite sex. I liked girls, and I prayed the girls liked me. We even took to daily ratings at recess and lunch hours to pick a top 10 list to compared with those of friends. Of course, it was crucial to know the rankings of those girls to whom you were most attracted. It was a brutal blow if I didn’t even get on a certain young lady’s list. I was especially smitten with a gorgeous blond, blue-eyed who had the kind of smile that made a boy hope he wasn’t embarrassing himself. When she talked to me in a flirting tone, it made me hope that my face hadn’t turned red and the sounds coming from my throat didn’t make convey ignorance. It became a challenge among the boys to out-do one another by making the top of her list. Honestly speaking, I secured the No. 1 spot right before school ended for summer vacation. Numero uno! One time! Thinking back, was it because the usual first place had moved, No. 2 was out sick, and

No. 3 said he loved someone else? Of course not. I had earned the right to hold her hand, carry books home, and endure teasing from her little sisters. At least I had the chance to do so that day.

School made an impression during sixth grade, too. Actually, my teacher was the most magnificent and intelligent lady at Forest Home Avenue Grade School. She was an elementary teacher for far more than 40 years’ experience at this point. Always a single lady, her children numbered thousands strong during her career. She quoted poetry with explanations that seemed to tell a story. Many a child’s needs were met, but in this regard she was not alone. From kindergarten through sixth grade, I never had a teacher who wouldn’t do whatever it took to help their students.

She made me try to work to another level, which resulted in outstanding grades. As I approached junior high school, it appeared the sky was the limit. I knew I could be whatever I wanted if I was willing to work hard enough. Where had time gone? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we lost the All-Star vs. Teacher softball game to homeruns by my favorite fourth- and fifth-grade teachers? Reality set in as we signed autograph books with friends.

Sadly, some students would go on to attend Walker Junior High School, not Kosciuszko Junior High because 16th Street marked the MPS east-west boundary line. Those west of the street went to Walker, whereas kids living east of the street headed off to Kosciuszko. My No. 1 and 2 rated ladies were not going to attend the same school anymore. As I look back this happened in the case of a lot of my friends. Summer playground at Forest Home