This 'Phy-ed' teacher made a lasting mark

My high-school physical education teacher, Leona Anderson, died a couple of weeks ago. This came as a surprise to me because we all thought she’d live forever.

At 90, Mrs. Anderson was still fit as a fiddle, and if she hadn’t fallen and hit her head there’s no doubt she would’ve reached 100 or better.

It’s funny how after-the-fact we realize the impact certain teachers had on our lives and what important mentors they truly were. But when I was a high-school freshman and forced to do push-ups and chin-ups, Mrs. Anderson was an oppressive force who ruled the gymnasium.

All freshman girls want to do (at least in my era) is talk about boys and who had a crush on whom. There was no idle chit-chat under Mrs. Anderson’s tutelage.

Of all my high-school classes, I have the most memories (some I’m still trying to suppress) from “phy-ed,” now more commonly known as P.E.

In those ancient times we were required to wear binding, uncomfortable white cotton jumpsuits, and if that wasn’t bad enough, my mother insisted on making my phy-ed “onesie,” so mine was just a little different than the rest of the girls. Oh, the horror of standing out.

Also horrifying was having to take communal showers for the first time.

I suffered two major injuries during my phy-ed years. One time I slipped through the trampoline springs after being called on to demonstrate a particular maneuver — and sprained my knee. The other time I was attempting to jump a hurdle that had been set up backwards, so I got all tangled up and I sprained my ankle badly enough to warrant crutches.

Dealing with teenage girls day in and day out must have been miserable for Mrs. Anderson, but she was always so chipper and energetic despite her dictatorial discipline.

One time during track season a group of girls, myself included, decided to stage a “sit-in” because we were tired and didn’t want to do the required 600-yard run/walk we needed for a passing grade. It was a brazen move, but Mrs. Anderson knew exactly how to handle the obstinate bunch.

She shamed us into compliance.

I still remember the tone of her voice as she quietly said, “Now girls...” She proceeded to tell us how lucky we were to have two healthy legs when there were any number of disabled youngsters who’d love the chance to be able to run.

Perhaps her greatest accomplishment was establishing a gymnastics program in our Northern Minnesota high school at a time when very few other schools had such programs. We had state-of-the-art equipment — balance beam, uneven bars, vault and huge mats for floor exercise.

We were required to participate in every event using routines she had devised. I still remember the moves. Except for a couple of exceptional athletes, most of us girls plowed through the motions with little grace or ability. We all gasped when Debbie Glende fell off the high bar flat onto her back. We were sure she was dead, but she just got the wind knocked out of her.

Mrs. Anderson videotaped each of us — another horrifying affair — and forced us to watch the tapes. This was also cutting-edge in its day, I think. None of us had even heard of videotaping.

After she retired, Mrs. Anderson had a second illustrious career at the local newspaper, proofreading and putting together the “Looking Back” column of past events. She was still going strong until her unfortunate tumble.

Here’s what I learned from Mrs. Anderson: Exercise is good for you; so is discipline and teamwork. If you try your best, then that’s good enough even if you’re not the fastest or the strongest. Life’s lessons are taught in many places, even in the sweaty depths of a high-school gymnasium.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com