It’s all Greek to me

I spent most of my elementary school years in Bellevue, Washington. It was a small, bedroom community of few thousand people. In the 50s, 60s and early 70s the community thrived because of the people, not corporations although the bowling alley was world class.

The only way into Seattle back then was the Lacey V. Murrow Floating Bridge or “Old” floating bridge. The Evergreen Point Floating Bridge or “New” floating bridge wouldn’t be built for almost another 10 years. Security was not so strict when the new bridge was being built; my dad and I were able to walk to end of the truss on the east side. Only a single rope with a few orange plastic ribbons alerted visitors that a 100-foot drop was a few steps away.

Surrey Downs neighborhood
Housing developments popped up, mostly in the 50s style of semi-flat roofs, open floor plans, Harvest Gold or Avocado Green appliances, two-car garages and driveways with basketball hoops and a plethora of Schwinn bikes. Kids joined service organizations: Boys Scouts, Girl Scouts, Brownies, Campfire Girls and Bluebirds. We learned about survival in the woods, the water, we played with fire, learned how to tell the height of a tree with just a stick, and on one trip we learned about the dangers of bats. I also learned that stealing my mother’s be-jeweled, teal Arabian nights bedroom slippers was a bad idea because they don’t do well in the sandy beaches of San Juan Islands.

It was a idyllic existence and communities embraced names such as Sherwood Forest, Chevy Chase, Midlands, Meydenbauer, Medina and Surrey Downs.

Surrey Downs Elementary
Surrey Downs Elementary no longer exists. It lives on only in the minds and hearts of the students who lived and learned there. It became an administration building when it became a victim of declining enrollment. After that it was bulldozed to make a park. The park’s still there.

At the time, Surrey Downs Elementary was a fairly large school. Two wings of classrooms, a separate wing for administration and a gym in the center separated grades K-3 and 4-6. Classrooms had three grades. Kindergarten was on its own, but grades 1,2,3 were in the same room. Grades 4,5,6 were the same. Instead of having teachers teaching in one grade, they taught three. The wisdom was the higher grades would help the younger grades. Kids in the lower grades were exposed to higher ideas and experiences. Higher grades could solidify concepts and lessons that hadn’t quite ‘stuck’ by helping the younger grades with their lessons. The old adage – See one, do one, teach one.

My teacher for the three years of 4,5,6 was Pete Vlahos. He was a man of short stature, dark hair, thick 50s glasses with a thick, thick Greek accent.

Mr. Vlahos brought his Greek culture with him to school each day. Stories of Greek mythology, and an expectation to remember those legends was compulsory.

I recently posted class pictures in the “I Miss Retro Bellevue” page. Over 100 people either ‘liked’ the page or had a story. One class that put on the play, “The Odyssey” and we learned Greek dances (Opa!), much time was spent on learning about the Kibbutz living style, we carved traditional Alaskan death masks from plaster and had festivals the included a dog show which had nothing to do with Greece but had more to do with the utter patience of allowing 30 kids having their dogs come to school.

One year he read, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ to us after lunch recess. He’d have everyone come in, he’d turn off the overhead lights and we sat at our single desks (that always smelled of Comet cleanser for some reason) either sitting up or with head down. He read a chapter a day and we hung on every word. Charlie Bucket, Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, and Mike Teavee taught us important lessons without really meaning to. We learned how important grandparents were and the hope and perseverance they imparted to a younger generation.

Picking a winner

Vlahos had a few well-known quirks: when he wanted quiet he would let out a loud,’SSSSSTTTTTT’ and we immediately shut up. He would tap the chalk on the blackboard and loudly has he could, and once, he broke the glass on his desk with the wooden pointer he used to draw attention to once of the colorful word charts that went floor-to-ceiling on the wall. We all laughed nervously at his angry outburst. He laughed with us. We respected the rubber-tipped wooden pointer. He also used that pointer to jab students in the shoulder if they were talking out of turn.

The most famous quirk – picking his nose. He’d pick his nose with alarming regularity. He gave new meaning to the phrase, ‘digging for gold.’ He examine said booger, then scratch his ear with the same finger then put the combination in his mouth. I remember one kid wiped a massive amount of bloody, yellow boogers under his desk in long sinuous streaks and caught hell for it. Mr. Vlahos just picked and scooped and tasted with impunity.

Posting the school pictures brought around a lot of memories. Someone reported he had died a few years ago. It took me a while but I found his obituary:

Pete Vlahos’s obituary

Pete Vlahos passed away October 3, 2016, at the age of eighty-nine. Born and raised in Stenoma, Greece, Pete immigrated to the United States in 1959, bringing with him his strong character and unbridled enthusiasm for starting a new life in Seattle with his family. He is survived by his loving wife, Titika, and his devoted daughters Vivi and Angelike, who continue to be nurtured by his lifelong gift of guidance, love and kindness.

A celebration of his life will be held on Monday, October 10, 2016 at 1:00 p.m. at Evergreen Washelli Funeral Home Tribute Center, 11111 Aurora Avenue N, Seattle, WA 98103.
To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.
Published by The Seattle Times from Oct. 7 to Oct. 8, 2016.

I remember when he married his wife, Titika. He left us for a while to return to Greece and returned with a bride. He brought her to class one day, beaming with pride but kept an eye on us. Titika didn’t speak a word of English. She smiled a lovely smile and took us all in. We smiled back and gave her welcome letters made from construction paper and crayons. She was tearful over the dozens of cards she received that day.

Nuts to you

One thing I’ll never forget was the hazelnut trees that dotted the school grounds. Every fall, every student would be given a basket to fill with the hazelnuts on the ground. Hundreds and hundreds of pounds of hazelnuts. We were free labor; the school district sold the nuts and reaped the profit. Mr. Vlahos walk around the area with Mr. Hall, carrying his rubber-tipped wood stick and motivating anyone not putting appropriate effort into the nuts.

The playground was another thing. Dangerous as hell. There was a structure there with a wide rope net and a wooden canopy. That wooden canopy was 20-feet high. Some students would climb to the top of the structure with no fear. There was no soft ground, no ‘rescue’ if you climbed up but couldn’t get down. A skill we learned was how to talk down someone off a ledge. But the most important lesson was have an exit plan before doing something stupid.

We played kickball, climbed dangerous monkey bars, one that was so high that to fall was a guaranteed broken limb. That same structure had a hornets nest inside the top cap. No adult didn’t anything about it. Get stung? Rub some dirt on it.

We played in the covered areas when it rained hard. Basically it was Dodge Ball with those red balls that’ll leave a weave-imprint on your face if you didn’t catch it before it smacked your face. We called it ‘Soak ’em” because we usually had to play when it rained. There were rules, but not many. The first rule was don’t get hurt. We don’t explain nuthin’ during Soak ’em.

Occasionally Mr. Vlahos and Mr. Hall would walk by and watch our games. They never interfered. Just stopped for a moment and walked away. They didn’t interfere with lunch-time Lord of the Flies Soak ’em game.

There are teachers that stick with you. I have a few I’d like to tell where to stick … never mind.

Mr. Vlahos always was a big part of what I remember about school. He was consistent, could demonstrate his belief in you without overt enthusiasm and praised hard word. Nobody really goofed off in his class. If they did, it was a sign something was wrong and a problem needed addressed. Deficiencies weren’t passed onto the next grade.

Smoke ’em if you got ’em

But I always dreaded parent-teacher conferences. I’d sweat through my clothes wondering what my mom (dad never went) and Mr. Vlahos talked about. Now I think she probably flirted with him as a coping mechanism so she wouldn’t have to address my scholastic shortcomings and her unfettered drink and drug use. I still have those reports. Basically those reports say I’m smart but I talk to much. It is what it is.

His classroom was a model of teaching. Students were encouraged to explore their strengths. We had some math wizards in the class, a girl name Debbie was the most voracious reader (we had a tally board) and he encouraged my writing. He was a stickler for spelling tests every week and each 4th-grade student had to stand in front of him and recite their times tables. Times tables printed on thick paper and run through a mimeograph machine. You could get high sniffing those freshly printed cards. Those times tables are still drilled in my head. Thank you, Mr. Vlahos.

Finding those class pictures brought a lot of memories.

Rest in peace, Pete. You inspired a generation of students and took us far beyond ABC and reading, writing and arithmetic. You ‘Greeked’ us and showed a wider world in a 25′ x 25′ room. You gave us passive learning and direct lessons. I have only one kvetch – you never picked up on my reading disability. It should’ve been caught. Truly, no teacher in my entire academic tenure has spotted it. You’re in good company.

I know he taught for many, many years at different schools. He must have accumulated tons of class pictures. I wonder if he saw the class pictures here, would he know which one is me?

Do you?