Editor’s Note: I don’t know about you all, but I find it fascinating what people remember from the past and how people and events shape our lives. When Dwayne sent me this story, I remembered crying my eyeballs out and watching Ms. Brice, who I had for English in the sixth grade, leave Erwin Elementary for the last time. I had a huge crush on her and she may have been the first teacher who inspired me to write. Remember those black and white spiral notebooks?

GCW

The Class From Hell

by Dwayne Hood

I hated the sixth grade. It was the worst year that I spent at Erwin because I didn’t learn anything. I remember nothing but fear and loathing, angst, gnashing of teeth, persecution … and stolen report cards.

Some of you may have been with me in The Class From Hell. We were the sixth grade class that had three homeroom teachers in nine months. (Our class photo is on this Website. I’m the little kid standing in the back corner of the room. If you look closely, you will notice there is no teacher in the photograph.)

Integration was finally catching up to Erwin Elementary School and some people were not handling it well. We started the year with a nice, young homeroom teacher named Ms. Brice. But about mid-year, she was transferred to another school and was eventually replaced with an African-American lady named Ms. Vann, a sweet, grandmotherly type who appeared to have the best of intentions - but she never had a chance.

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Danny Garrett

by Dwayne Hood

I remember Mrs. Schwartz laying Danny Garrett on the reading table. We thought he was going to die.
 
We were in the first grade and Mrs. Schwartz was our teacher. It was a cold, rainy winter day and school was about to begin when several girls ran into the classroom screaming that Danny had fallen and was hurt. Mrs. Schwartz ran from the room, following the students across campus and around a building where Danny had apparently ran down a hill, slipped and fallen and struck his forehead on a sidewalk.
 
I remember Mrs. Schwartz carrying Danny back into the classroom and laying him on a table that we sat around for reading lessons. I don’t recall him bleeding but he was clearly hurt and Mrs. Schwartz was scared. Little kids know when an adult is scared so we gathered around quitely, convinced that poor Danny might die,  just like they do on TV.

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Editor’s Note: Hey gang: How many people remember a nice guy named Dwayne Hood from Erwin Elementary and seventh grade in junior high?

His family moved to Tennessee in 1971, so he disappeared from the Erwin radar screen. I thought some of you might like to know what happened to him, especially since I had an interesting encounter with Dwayne myself 14 years later. I e-mailed Dwayne Friday and asked him to write a little something up to fill in the blanks. I’ll let him tell the story. Photo below.

GCW

Greetings to the Erwin Class of ‘76

I hope that some of you remember me. I wish I could have graduated with you! I attended Erwin from the first through seventh grades until my family moved to Nashville, Tenn. in the summer of 1971.

My family moved back to Pinson in the summer of 1977 while I was away at college in Kentucky. I eventually got a degree in journalism and returned to Alabama to work as a newspaper reporter.

I walked into the newsroom for my first day of work at the Decatur Daily in 1985 and ran into Glynn “Cowboy” Wilson. Glynn and another reporter, Brooks Boliek (a Berry High School grad), became fast friends and incredible troublemakers for the editors. The Decatur Daily had the journalistic depth and drive of an out of date telephone book. Glynn, Brooks and myself were dubbed the “Triad of Dissent” with Glynn being the clear leader of the trio. (I’m sure a few of you have noticed that the “Cowboy” has an uncanny ability to infuriate authority figures : )

Brooks and I would eventually serve as witnesses in a lawsuit the Cowboy lodged against the paper for violation of the federal wage and hour law. (He won a judgement in federal court that caused a ripple effect in work schedules and pay levels at newsrooms across the state and district.)

But after seven years of chasing ambulances and trashing people for a living, I decided there had to be a better way to support myself so I went back to graduate school and got a degree in counseling in 1993. I’ve worked in higher education since then and now counsel students at a college in Lawrenceville, Ga., 30 miles northeast of Atlanta.

I return to Birmingham every few weeks to visit my family and see what kind of controversy the Cowboy has stirred up. I’m sorry that I missed the reunion but enjoy the pictures and this new Website. I will stay in touch and attend the next reunion.

My email address is dhood@gpc.edu and I welcome contact with anyone who may remember me. Good luck to you all and I hope to see you again someday.

Dwayne Hood

Photo by Rowland Scherman

The Triad of Dissent back together again at The Garage Cafe courtyard on Southside, Birmingham, June 23, 2006: Dwayne Hood, Glynn Wilson and Brooks Boliek

by Glynn “Cowboy” Wilson

Here’s an example of a blast of the past. I told some people this story at the 30th reunion since it’s what I remembered when I saw Don Leslie for the first time, literally, in 30 years.

Photo by Glynn Wilson

Don Leslie, 2006

The last time I saw Don Leslie it was October 1, 1976. The only reason I know this for sure is that you can look these kinds of things up on the Web to help your memory.

Alabama Football Yearly Results

It was the night before the Alabama-Georgia game and Don and I had gone out partying around the Birmingham club scene. The legal drinking age in those days was 18.

Some time around midnight we decided to drive over to Athens and be there in the morning to get tickets and go to the game.

But after a night of partying, we were pretty tired when we got there. So we slept some in the car. Then I took a nap in the grass on campus near the stadium.

A little before game time, Don started whining that he was too tired and hung over to go to the game. He wanted to drive back to Birmingham and watch it on television.

Since we were in his car, I had no choice but to go along. That’s the last time I saw Don Leslie, the party pooper.

Georgia won that game anyway, 21-0.

Not long after that I started playing in a new rock ‘n’ roll band called Back Street and went on the road and lost touch with a lot of folks from high school. We all moved on…

Don now lives in the Atlanta metro area. Hope he’s doing well … and making it to the games these days…

Do you have any fun stories to share? What memories come to your mind when you see people at a class reunion?