1968: The Year That Shaped Me: Part Two

The following email was originally posted on June 5, 1968

"Nineteen sixty-eight was tragedy and horrific entertainment: deaths of heroes, uprisings, suppressions, the end of dreams, blood in the streets of Chicago and Paris and Saigon, and at last, at Christmastime, man for the first time floating around the moon."

                                                                                                     From 1968: The Year That Shaped a Generation

The Table of Contents for 1968: The Year That Shaped a Generation includes a number events that left an indelible mark on this nation and came to define a generation.  The harsh awakening of the Tet Offensive, the grim announcement by a sitting President that he would not see another term, the assassination of Martin Luther King, the rise of the Black Power Movement, the tragic Battle of Sisyphus at Khe Sanh, the student take over at Columbia University to forestall the "urban renewal" of the neighboring black community, the assassination of Robert Kennedy, the Police Riots at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, the Anthem Protest at the Summer Olympics in Mexico City, and the Phoenix like resurrection of Richard Nixon all played out during that turbulent year.

Living during this chaos was a daunting task for a fourteen year old who began the year as a ninth grader in his last year at Victor Valley Junior High School.  After all, these events were being played out not just on television but also at home. We were a military family and we supported the war.  But when even the most conservative of commentators began questioning our purpose in Vietnam and the truthfulness of our government, then how could one continue to be steadfast for the war?

As black folks originally from the South, my family admired the work of Martin Luther King.  But when he was assassinated and the cities once again went up in flames, how could one not feel that anger and resentment were justified? I know many of my brethren did but, by the Grace of God, I did not.  For the most part, for me,1968 was not a year for despair but rather one of hope.  This hope was based on the perception that the community in which I lived  -- the community of Victorville, in general, and of Victor Valley Junior High School, in particular -- was a caring one and that as long as we actually cared for one another, then all things were possible. 

A lot of this sense of caring came from my fellow students, people who have been my friends now for life, and from our teachers, some who also have stayed with us for life, and some who were only in our lives for a brief moment but whose influence has lasted a lifetime. In 1968, I happened to be under the tutelage of one of those momentary teachers who come into our lives like a comet.  Her name is Carol Saukkola and, at the time, she was a young enthusiastic teacher who just arrived at Victor Valley Junior High School.  Her husband was an officer stationed at nearby George Air Force Base.  Mrs. Saukkola brought a new energy to the school, and a new perspective.   I think she wanted to shake things up a bit and she started shaking things up by shaping me.  

When I entered VVJHS, I had "integrated" the A Track (College Prep) classes and for two years I had quietly justified my acceptance into the classes by routinely making the honor roll.  However, that was pretty much all I did.  I did not engage in extracurricular activities because I lived too far away from town.  Somehow, Mrs. Saukkola noticed the lone black boy in her English class.  She approached me and asked if I would be willing to work on the school paper. I explained to her that I might but that I lived kind of far away.  She asked me where and how far and after I told her, she said that was not a problem, she could give me a ride home. So I accepted her offer. 

As it turned out, she did not just want me to work on the paper, she decided to make me the Editor. I had never worked on the paper before, others had, but for some reason she wanted me to be the Editor, so I accepted. I actually did enjoy working on the paper, but I would cringe a bit when Mrs. Saukkola drove me home in her stick shift Volkswagen Beetle because I not only lived across the tracks but also across the river from the main part of town.  But Mrs. Saukkola did not seem to mind so I tried not to let it bother me too much as well.

During the course of the year, the town newspaper offered to "employ" some students to write articles about school events for the local paper.  Again Mrs. Saukkola suggested that I be one of the students to write for the paper and again I accepted.  I think we got paid $1.50 for each column but more important than the money was seeing my name in the local paper.  No black person had ever been the editor of the Victor Voice and I had never seen an article written by a black person for the Daily Press. When I showed the articles to my Mom, she was so proud... and so was I.

In the Spring of 1968, Mrs. Saukkola came to me again and encouraged me to enter a speech contest sponsored by the local Optimist Club.  I was terrified of the prospect because when I had graduated as the valedictorian of Eva Dell Elementary School (the elementary school located across the tracks that most of the black and brown kids attended) I had made a mess of my valedictory speech, to the great dismay of my dear mother.  However, once again Mrs. Saukkola said that she would help me and she did.  I wrote the five minute speech and memorized it and then practiced it several times with Mrs. Saukkola critiquing my performance.

This time it worked.  I did not win the contest, but I did perform well ... well enough that my Mom was pleasantly relieved ... and a bit proud.  I think Mrs. Saukkola was proud too  so much so that she decided that I should give the speech to a larger audience.  I seem to recall having to give the speech at some school assembly later on.  I was petrified but I remembered the words.

Writing for the paper and learning how to give a speech were two gifts that Mrs. Saukkola gave to me during 1968.  However, the one that capped them all came during this week some fifty years ago.  At the end of the year, the school held an awards ceremony where awards were given for certain athletic and academic achievements.  The biggest awards were the awards that were handed out by the Principal for Outstanding Girl and Boy, made particularly special because the recipients' names were engraved on a plaque that was placed at the entrance foyer next to the administrative offices.  On that day in June of 1968, I and probably most of my fellow students were stunned to hear the Principal, Fred Hunter, announce that "Skip Jenkins" was the Outstanding Boy for 1968.  

Needless to say, I did not know quite what to think or say after this.  My accomplishments compared to those of others seemed so small.  I still am not sure what I did to deserve it.  Nevertheless, it was the proudest moment of my life. After all, I was the first person of color to win the award and that seemed to be a very hopeful sign for what could be, not only in Victorville, but also in the world outside.  

It is fifty years since that time.  Victor Valley Junior High School no longer exists.  It is now boarded up and abandoned.  As for the plaque that gave me a bit of fame and notoriety, well, it too has long since disappeared.  However, even though the plaque may be gone, it is still the award that I find myself trying to live up to.

And so, when I look back on 1968, I do not look back so much on the turmoil that shaped a generation as I do to the small triumphs that shaped me.  And, wherever Mr. Hunter, and especially Mrs. Saukkola may now be, I, in profound gratitude, say "Thank you for seeing in me more than I ever saw in myself."

Peace,

Everett "Skip" Jenkins