Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1949)

^% take --VA-] with you 9 The most unfortunate thing about "tobacco mouth" is that it becomes part of you so gradually. The only people it gives a "start" to are your friends! Your friends, your neighbors, your dentist — they all recognize "tobacco mouth" at the drop of a smile. But you, you're never quite sure . . . unless, of course, you are a regular user of Listerine Tooth Paste. There's a good reason why you can be sure — It contains Lusterfoam—a special ingredient that actually foams cleaning and polishing agents over your teeth . . . into the crevices — removes fresh stain before it gets a chance to "set" , . . whisks away that odor-making tobacco debris! See for yourself how Listerine Tooth Paste with Lusterfoam freshens your mouth and your breath! Get a tube and make sure that wherever you go^you won't take "tobacco mouth" with you! mm A ^\iP^^j^ ;;f ^« '« the ^itb 74 If I Did Teach SchooF' (Continued from page 35) Liza chortled. She had no idea what I was talking about, of course, but the mad explanation not only satisfied her at the moment, but gave her something to mull over long enough for me to escape from the witness stand. At such times I am faintly appalled to consider the extent of knowledge owned and operated thoughtlessly by an adult, which one is totally incapable of explaining to a child. At least, I feel incapable of explaining. Along with this admission comes the frightening memory that, at thirteen, I had decided to become a school teacher. I was considered very good with children. On one occasion I actually substituted as first and second grade teacher during the illness of the regular teacher. I remember that I had no trouble giving the youngsters their lessons, no trouble with keeping them busy, no trouble with discipline. I wonder what I had in those days? Whatever it was, it went away before Liza and Connie (now two) came into my life. I never knew what it was to be baffled until I became the pre-school teacher of my own small daughters. I must admit that when I was invited to be Our Miss Brooks and was given my first script to study, I viewed the project with doubt. It struck me that a program about a school teacher couldn't possibly hold an audience for more than two or three episodes. This analysis of mine proves that I had better develop an ambition to be President, because I can't be right. Not only did Our Miss Brooks make an instant hit, it has grown in popularity (according to Mr. Hooper, bless him) from week to week. It seems that practically everyone is interested in the everyday problems of a school teacher. Certainly, we expected teachers to be amused, but we were delighted to discover that we could entertain two additional groups of citizens: (1) everyone in school at present; (2) everyone who had ever gone to school, with or without protests. From the very first, there was one thing I desired for the program. I wanted it to be believable. Naturally, to hold an audience, one must employ a certain amount of high drama; however, there is drama in the lives of each of us — daily adventures of the mind and the spirit. — which, thank heaven, seldom appears in the headlines. It would have been simple to have placed our school teacher on an Indian Reservation for vivid local color, or in a settlement school for propaganda purposes, or in one of the large cities where anything can happen, but we didn't want that. We wanted a small town, an ordinary school system, and logical incidents. This attitude paid off handsomely. We began to get letters (spelling — A; punctuation— A) from school teachers everywhere in America. Most of the letters indicated a warm appreciation of what we were trying to do. From Milwaukee came a note saying: "Thank heaven, you've humanized us. One of the problems a teacher has always faced has been the 'setting apart' which has made us seem almost on a par with members of the clergy. However, we are nothing more or less than professional people in the sense that an interior decorator, a lawyer, a clothing designer, a writer, or an actress is a professional person. We should be accorded the same human privileges which they enjoy as a matter of course. To secure these privileges, we must be humanized. You are doing that for us." From hundreds of cities have come letters breathing sighs of thankfulness because we have pointed out, whenever possible on the program, that school teachers are frequently underpaid and overworked. To complicate the financial situation, there are always a dozen hungry hands in a school teacher's pocket, because a teacher is expected to be among the first to contribute generously to the Red Cross, the Community Chest, the Guide Dog Fund, at least one Church Fund, the Buy An Indian a Blanket Fund, the Community Auditorium Fund, the Plant an ELm Week Fund, and to any other community undertaking which needs money — as community enterprises are inclined to do, king-size. Teachers, like actresses, are always broke, because both are sensitive to the plight of others; both realize that when financial aid is sought, it is usually for a worthy cause. To maintain selfrespect, a teacher should be well-paid. From Chicago came a letter asking Our Miss Brooks to point out in some dramatic manner the fact that it is unfair to expect a teacher to teach Sunday School (Continued on page 76) 'TfMe in II —This is what a listener to "MY TRUE STORY" writes — both in fun and in earnest. "These real-life stories solve problems every woman must face." Listen to this greatest of morning radio shows taken from the pages of True Story magazine, and you'll see for yourself why so many women never miss a single drama, Monday thru Friday. MY TRUE STORY'' AMERICAN BROADCASTING STATIONS