A Mind of His Own

Jory with his Kindergarten teachers

Jory was born with a mind of his own.  When he decided upon something, it became a hardened statute.  He loved acquiring knowledge, but the traditional education system wasn't designed for a free spirit who refused to do homework.  Starting in kindergarten, he greeted every teacher with a smile and explained, "I'll be good in your class.  I won't cause trouble and I'll do what you ask.  During class time, I'm yours, but when the bell rings, it's my time and I do what I want."

First Day of First Grade

Teachers usually started by not taking him seriously because the homework they assigned was minimal and he got it done at school. . . sort of.  He entered first grade already reading fluently on a third grade level.  Mrs. Unland, his teacher, suggested that we skip him into second grade, but we objected.  He could read, but socially, he was an immature little boy with limited small motor skills, who couldn't sit still, was easily distracted, and was into everything.  Besides, he hadn't mastered holding a pencil, yet, and didn't know how to write.  We bargained with the school and reached a compromise.  Jory would remain in first grade, but would go into the second grade class each day for language arts.

2nd. Grade Spelling Book Page

He loved the second grade teacher, a silver haired grandmotherly type, who fell in love with his curly blond hair, huge smile, and enthusiasm.  She started right off with spelling.  The first word he learned to spell was incredible because Mrs. Winter said that he was an incredible kid.  He came home that day and proudly knew how to spell it.  

Of course, she also issued him a standard second grade spelling workbook.  He consistently aced the weekly tests, but never filled out a page in that workbook.  Mrs. Winter didn't find out until the end of the year when Jory made a tactical mistake.  He told the girl sitting next to him that she was stupid for wasting time with that spelling book because the teacher never checked it.  The girl told the teacher and Mrs. Winter called us.  He was busted!  From then on, I volunteered each year to correct homework for his teachers.  Years later, with his omnipresent Sharpie, he wrote incredible on every wall at CalArts.  In addition, he always used impeccable spelling and grammar, expecting others to do the same.  Of course, he always spelled his liberal uncensored words correctly, as well.

Third grade began the GATE (Gifted & Talented Education) Program and Jory was assigned to Mrs. Lyday's class with all the other identified GATE kids.  Competition was strong among the students, but Jory wasn't competitive.  He did his own thing and was happy to let others do theirs.  Mrs. Lyday was the most creative and permissive of all teachers, making allowances for her special kids.  But, one evening she called us with great frustration.

President Report on Abe Lincoln Pre-empted by Stamp Collection

"Today the President Reports were due.  Yesterday, I reminded Jory at the end of the day that he needed to turn in his report this morning.  He did not!"

"He was busy in his room all last night," I said.  "Did he say why he didn't turn it in?" 

"He said he was working on his stamp collection." 

I immediately went into Jory's room and asked the question, to which he replied with honest sincerity, "I told Mrs. Lyday that I was going to work on my stamp collection and I wouldn't have time for the President Report."

In seventh grade, he was in a turmoil over his older brother's hazing at the US Air Force Academy.  He didn't say anything to anyone, but decided to protest silently by not doing his math homework.  The school year went by and all seemed well until we received a letter from the junior high school that Jory was failing Math.  Furious with the school, I called the administration office and demanded to know why we had not been notified sooner.

"Mrs. Prum, we have sent you a notice every 6 weeks," replied the counselor.

I was aghast, but I waited, not so calmly, for Jory to return home from school.  "Jory," I asked, "has there been any mail delivered to this house that I have not seen?"

Unopened Progress Reports from School

"Uh-huh," he replied.

"May I see it?"

Jory marched to his room and returned with a stack of unopened letters from Parks Junior High School, which he placed in my hands.  I didn't know whether to punish him for intercepting his progress reports or laugh at him for being so naive as to keep them as evidence.  Just like his spelling tests in first grade, he had actually passed all the math tests with good grades, but never turned in any of the homework assignments.  In the end, he struck a bargain with the teacher and wound up passing the class.

High school was no different.  When a homework assignment was written on the board, he completed it during class time and turned it in the next day.  If he was assigned a project to do at home, we rarely knew about it until it was too late.  During his junior year, he had a long term science project assignment, which he told us about.  We prompted him to work on it throughout the month.  The final weekend, we nagged and insisted that he complete the project.  Sunday night he had finally assembled all the written work and graphics.  It was midnight and Jory was not only dragging but nodding off mid-sentence.  We sent him to bed and Sam and I finished the placing and gluing of his data and conclusions onto a 3-fold presentation board.  It was 2 AM, the project looked fantastic. Both Sam and I were exhausted,  and had to get up for work in 4 hours.  

Troy High School

The next morning, I drove Jory and his project to school.  As I watched him disappear into the buildings, I had a feeling of great satisfaction to compensate for my lack of sleep.  He was finally turning in a major project on time.  All day I basked in the glow of knowing that he was sort of maturing and acquiring some rudimentary organization and time management skills.  When I picked him up after school, I was excited to hear how his day went.

"Did you turn your project in?"  I asked.

"Yep," he responded.

"Didn't you feel terrific today when you turned it in on time?" I asked, expecting a positive response.

"Well," he hesitated, "it was due a week ago."

Another incident involved the history teacher, Mr. Weiner, whom Jory considered to be the oldest and most boring member of the faculty at Troy High School.  He spoke in a monotone, lacking enthusiasm and interest, having repeated the same lessons year after year.  He called our home regularly, complaining that Jory had not turned in homework.  It almost became a family joke when the phone rang during dinner, that it had to be Mr. Weiner again.  

Well, final grades came out and Jory's report card arrived in the mail.  We watched him open it with trepidation, hoping once again that all that missed homework had not brought him a failing grade.  With delight, Jory began dancing around the kitchen, waving the report card in the air. 

Infamous Report Card

"I got an A!" he rejoiced.

"Really?" we all exclaimed in surprise.  "Let's see that."  Sure enough, there was an A printed alongside US History.

"How did you do that?" we asked.

"I don't know.  Mr. Weiner must have made a mistake when he copied my grade from his grade book . . . or maybe I Aced the final.  It was easy."

We accepted the last part of his answer.  Deciding that we had all earned that A for having to put up with Jory and every teacher throughout his years in school.  We never asked the school to investigate.  

The four years at CalArts (California Institute of the Arts) were a relief.  Instructors did not call at dinner time and we never saw a report card.  Jory seemed to be in his element and flourishing.  Graduation was soon approaching and we felt some concern, but the administration assured us that CalArts students were not allowed to march in the graduation ceremony unless all their work was completed and there were no incomplete grades outstanding.  

We arrived at graduation with great expectations and joy.  The graduation area was outdoors, set with rows of white wooden folding chairs, facing a beautiful platform and backdrop constructed especially for the occasion.  A woman was placing a program on each chair.  In the distance I saw Jory approaching.  He was wearing a multi-colored psychedelic shirt, shiny turquoise leisure pants, and hot pink ladies high heels.  His long hair was sprayed purple and ratted out to increase the circumference of his head a good 24 inches.  

"Sam, look at that weirdo," I said, pointing at Jory.

"Excuse me, Madam." interjected the woman with the programs, "That is a CalArts graduate, not a weirdo."

"I'm sorry," I replied, "that weirdo is our son!"

Jory had failed to tell us that CalArts graduations were not traditional.  In fact, each graduate was expected to make a unique artistic statement.  Soon other graduates appeared, all attired as if attending a great masquerade party.  There was one who had constructed a wooden litter for himself, hoisted upon the shoulders of 8 bare chested men wearing sarongs.  A second was a tall thin guy wearing a mini-dress, knee-high Go Go boots, and a wig of surfer style blond hair.  Another was dressed in African attire and accompanied by an entire percussion ensemble wearing matching costumes.  Jory's friend Vincent was escorted by two of his bikini clad clients in stilettos who had hired him to design their porn websites.   

Jory making his artistic statement at CalArts Graduation

When each name was called, the appropriate CalArts graduate took his time making a grand entrance onto the podium to shake President Steve Lavine's hand and receive a diploma.  Jory marched up, followed by two undergrads carrying a full size wooden, official handicapped stencil generally used for marking restricted spaces in parking lots.  The stencil was held against the backdrop as Jory proceeded to spray paint a regulation blue handicapped logo on it.  The helpers left the podium, Jory handed President Lavine the can of spray paint, shook his other hand, and walked away with  his diploma.  

Bubbles to celebrate CalArts graduation

After the ceremony, the grads celebrated with their friends and families.  Jory contributed to the celebration by providing bubbles.  He and the Go Go dancer guy were photographed by the local newspaper reporter and made the front page of the Santa Clarita Daily News.  

When Jory came to join us, Sam and I each had a question to ask him. 

“Jory, where did that handicapped stencil come from?” I asked.

“It's been in your garage for the past couple of years," he answered.

“How did it get there?” I followed up.

Handicapped Parking Stencil

“I found it at CalArts after the earthquake.  After we used it to paint all the parking spaces in the faculty lot as handicapped, I put it in your garage for safe keeping.”

“Never mind,” interrupted Sam.   “The real question is when will you be receiving your diploma?”

“Well," he began, "not for awhile.  I still have three incomplete classes, but it's not all my fault."

We couldn't believe it!  Once again he was being Jory!  In the midst of all the revelry, Jory had somehow managed to squeeze under the radar unnoticed.

"Well," said Sam trying to control his anger and disappointment, "that new Mac that we promised you for graduation won't appear until after your diploma does."

"Just a minute," responded Jory, as he disappeared into the crowd. "I have to catch one of my instructors."

A few minutes later he returned with a huge grin.  "That's taken care of," he said.  "Now I have only two incompletes."

Apple's
First Attempt at a Hand-Held Computer

"What did you do?" we asked.

"I offered the instructor a complete set of type written notes of his class lectures in exchange for the paper that I didn't write.  He accepted and now I'm going into the building to print them from my Newton so that he can have them before he leaves today."  

Jory, being techie from birth and having almost illegible handwriting, had acquired one of the first handheld computers with a portable keyboard, called a Newton, which accompanied him everywhere by hanging from his belt in a leather holster.  He had started using it to take class notes in high school and really became proficient during his college classes.  With one press of the print button, all his class notes were ready to turn in.

"What are the other classes you haven't completed?" we asked.

"One is almost done and the other one isn't my fault.  I never got to finish my oboe lessons with the oboist from the LA Phil because the orchestra went on tour and she wasn't available."

Jory being Jory, he negotiated with the two remaining instructors and was able to barter alternatives for the remaining work.  After his official diploma arrived, so did his new Mac.

Jory's Well Deserved College Diploma

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum  January 29, 2009
In elementary school, I was a terrible student. I was bored much of the time and didn't do my homework, sometimes giving reasons such as, "I had to work on my stamp collection." In order to get me to shape up, my folks often threatened to send me to military school. What actually worked better was rewards, such as a basketball hoop being installed on the garage if I got a B average. 

Dee 

Incredible person  with  incredible  parents.

Loretta 

Thanks so much for the special remembrances of Jory.  I feel as though I know him - what wonderful parents and friends you were to him.

Molly 

What a special character!! I never knew all these details about Jory as a boy! He was definitely a one of a kind guy. I wish I could talk to him now about what made him tick.

I did, however, know the enthusiastic, happy Jory. It must have been hard and entertaining to be his parents!  Thanks for sharing your beautiful writings! Love reading them.

Freea

That's our Jory! He had his own pioneering way of doing everything and it always worked! Thanks for these shares. So greatly appreciated.

Gina 

Love this story!

Elaine

Once again your writing has mesmerized me. I just couldn’t stop reading about the amazing Jory. I would have been so frustrated with a son like Jory but you and Sam were the kind of parents, though challenged by Jory, knew how best to parent him so that his creativity and brilliant mind would not be crushed.  May his memory and your sharing of his special life continue to serve as a blessing.

Vivi

It’s nice to read about Jory.

Barbara 

Just finished reading  about Jory and his free spirit. You are a wonderful writer and he is an amazing guy.  The stunts he pulled were amazing.  Very creative.

Judy

Again I enjoyed your blog about Jory.  I really believed that homework after school for the “gifted kids” especially was not necessary.  I decided to let the girls have free time to play and “imagine”.  Finally in 4th and 5th grades they became interested in horses.  We bought them each a horse as there were stables nearby.  My younger daughter got “A”s on tests in Math and “F” in homework, so I  talked to her teacher, and assured him that since he thought it was so important, I would be sure she did her homework.  I asked him to write down the week’s homework, and I would check it off if it was finished.  He didn’t much like the extra work, but agreed to it.  After about two weeks of this, Liz said that she knew she had to do her homework, so I could stop checking on it for her.  That was the end of that.—back to the stables and the horses.

Linda

We just love these Jory stories.

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