I arrived at Patterson in September 1960 with a foot locker full of new clothes and bewilderment about why I was here.  I was a sophomore and just beginning to get used to high school life at home when my mother decided that I needed to go away to a boys school.  This was the beginning of some good times but also some bad.

My first room mate was Bruce Parr from Virginia.  We had a room on the second floor of Palmyra Hall.  Mrs. “Grandma” Buckland was the dorm mother.  Our room was painted a nice industrial gray and we were not allowed to put anything on the walls.  We had an army surplus bunk bed, two dressers, a desk and two closets.  At nine every evening we had lights out and it was not voluntary.  The power was turned off at the main breaker.  In the mornings we, as well as all of Happy Valley, were awakened by a siren which also blew at class periods and meals.

We had an assortment of instructors who varied from very good to pretty poor.  We attended class on Saturdays and were “free” on Mondays.  This was so we avoided clashes with the Lenoir boys who did not care for Patterson.  They believed that we were competition for the local girls.

On Monday mornings we had work parties.  The various staff chose a number of boys to work in a particular area.  Some jobs were easy, others more difficult.  For example, cleaning the chapel or library were easy.  Mopping the kitchen floor with lye was not.  We learned to avoid eye contact and to slouch in our seats when bad jobs were being assigned.

There were several methods of discipline.  One was demerits.  I don’t remember how we received them, but with enough we were not allowed to go to town.  Then there was sitting on the stump which was all it implied.  No books, no radio, nothing but sitting for one to four hours.  We also had work hours for more serious violations.  Being late for a meal meant missing the meal and two work hours.  No excuses.  Being late for classes meant more work hours.  The work hours could be anything that Mr. Wiese wanted done.  My senior year I only had two hours, but they were spent shoveling coal in Palmyra’s basement.  The worst punishment was expulsion.  Each year we lost several boys who were sent home for various violations.  Also there were boys who couldn’t adjust to the Patterson life and asked to go home.

My second year at Patterson was not a good year.  I changed room mates and rooms four or five times.  Not all of them were my choice.  This kept me unsettled for most of the year.  We had a new chaplain this year who few of us felt that we could talk with because anything which we related would go straight to Mr. Wiese.  The monthly dance/socials which were held the previous year were canceled with no explanation so we had limited contact with local girls and I lost my girl friend back home.  The tension from all these changes affected us all.  My grades dropped and I was subject to many more work hours and restrictions.  By the end of my junior year, I did not want to return to Patterson for my final year, but I felt that I had coasted through classes so much that I could not return home as a senior in public school.

As a senior, I had a much better year at Patterson.  I had one roommate the whole year and we got along well.  I became an officer in the Key Club.  Coach Teaster appointed me the head of the canteen for the school.  I was responsible for maintaining stock, ordering, and sales of refreshments during basketball games and after meals.  I was happy in this job until the last six weeks of school when I was relieved of this position in order that others could learn the job for the next year.  I was disappointed and again my grades slipped.  I was the only senior who was required to attend monitored study hall the last grading period of the year.

At graduation, I performed my final act of protest.  We were required to wear dark pants and a white shirt at the graduation ceremony.  At that time white pants and maroon shirts were “in” attire.  I wore both.  I cut the collar from a white shirt and wore it over the red one, but I also wore white pants when it was too late to stop me.  I heard about my protest later but by then “who cares”.   I was finished.  I graduated 16th in my class.  There were 16 in the class.

If nothing else, my years at Patterson prepared me well for my years in the service.

Robert Pearce ‘60