Once upon a time, there was a class for Juniors and Seniors in high school called Drivers Education. Judging by the driving I see on the road today, it needs to be brought back, not just for students but for parents as well. Most all of us at Walker High School and our Neighboring Institutes of Secondary Education took Drivers Ed. Not just because you got to leave school during the day and go driving around, but you also got a break on your insurance if you completed the course successfully. Drivers Ed was either a pass or fail course. Most students passed. Some of us, however, did not.
Drivers Ed at Walker was taught by the man pictured here, Mr. Gilbert S. Dill. This picture is the closest I ever saw him come to cracking a smile. Sour, ornery and country as the day is long, Mr. Dill (or Pickle, as he was more affectionately known) was one of those teachers you had to wonder why he ever chose to enter the profession. He had a genuine disdain for teenagers, or “arrogant rascals” as he called us. If you asked him a question he’d look at you and say, “Are you gittin’ smart with me?” Mr. Dill was a math teacher before they switched him to Drivers Ed. He had a poster on the wall of his classroom of a cartoon car crashed into a tree with a liquor bottle and a bottle of pills beside it. At least once every day he’d point to it and remind us that “Alkyhawl plus drugs equals car again’ tree.” That was our Drivers Ed version of an algebraic equation.
One of the main tactics of Drivers Ed was scare tactics. They showed us a movie made in 1959 called “Signal 30” which was the Ohio State Patrol’s code name for a fatal accident. I would never post it here because it is very graphic, but it is on YouTube. Even more graphic was when the DeKalb County Police came in with slides of accidents from around the county. They hit home more than Signal 30, because they were local, more up to date, and some of the officers had been involved in the cleanup.
At Q&A time after the slide show, I asked a question which many of us were interested in the answer: “Is it illegal to drive barefoot?” I had asked Mr. Dill once and he just looked at me as if snakes were crawling out of my ears. The officer told me no, it is not illegal, but you can apply more pressure to a brake pedal while wearing a shoe. I didn’t care about any of that, though. The only thing I cared about was going home and telling my father the part about the officer assuring me that driving barefoot was not illegal, thus ending an ongoing argument.
After a month or so of classroom work, we began driving lessons on the road, in pairs with Pickle riding shotgun. I never made it that far. One day my buddy Chip and I were leaving football practice and Mr. Dill and a couple of students were in the parking lot practicing parking with orange cones. We decided it would be a great idea to moon them, so with Chip behind the wheel of my ’65 Fairlane, we tore past them, blowing the horn with my Luna Plena illuminating the early evening sky. Sara, the girl that was driving, said that Mr. Dill started yelling “WHO WAS THAT?? WHO WAS THAT??” She was laughing so hard that he got mad at her, but managed to get my tag number and turn me in. Needless to say, I was called to the Assistant Principal’s office the next morning and dismissed from Drivers Ed immediately. I also got three licks, wasn’t allowed to drive to school for a week and had to run countless windsprints after football practice. In retrospect, I have to say that it was all worth it. And, miraculously, my parents never found out about it. An “arrogant rascal”…Still Cruisin’! –J.
“brake…Brake…BRAKE!!!”…white knuckling the dash and seat…
first time EVER behind the wheel with Mr Dill…
David Cartwright was in the back seat, that day.
You’re right, David… he caught hell from us from all directions, but he brought most of it on himself. I never knew another teacher who seemed to have such a genuine dislike for teenagers…
Great story about old Mr. Dill. Jogged an old memory. One morning before Mr. Dill came to unlock his classroom door someone had put a Trojan over the door knob. He sat his briefcase down,pulled out his handkerchief and took it off. Before he unlocked the door he turned around and gave me a death stare I will never forget. I think Dick Dickerson may have been the culprit but I stayed away from pickles room from then on. I almost felt sorry for him. I think he made a poor career choice. Huh?
LOL! Thanks for the input, Robert, really interesting and entertaining to hear other “arrogant rascals” experiences with Pickle! Everybody, and I mean everybody, who ever had a class with him has a story. Very creative on the “Dial A Prayer”, wish I would have thought of that one myself. And, I must say I’m very impressed you remember the number! He pulled the phone thing with us, too. I think it was Paul Hartman or Jack McMillan that gave him the number 241-U812. It went right over his head. Great stuff, and “your smart mouth is welcome in this blog any time!” –J.
Dang, Lus, that was a healthy hike from Walker to Casher Drive! So, that’s why you never drove…
Glad to oblige, Sara… as I said, in the end (pun intended), it was all worth it! –J.
Wow what a walk down memory lane mr Dill was a different type but a good teacher thank goodness I never took drivers ed but did interact with him some
My friend Wayne and I had driver’s ed from Corbett Clark but were fortunate in having Mr. Dill for homeroom in the 10th grade. Fortunate, in that he called forth our best efforts at confirming that school is NOT in fact “a bizness” as he proclaimed. Dullest man alive, Mr. Dill, as one might guess from his appearance. His hero, whom he referenced often, was none other than the exciting Matthew Fontaine Murray (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Fontaine_Maury).
To intimidate us into submission, Mr. Dill requested our parents’ phone numbers. Wayne, now, gave him the number for Dial A Prayer, 256-1933, from the sign posted on the side of the FA Reece construction company was on Glenwood just off Moreland Avenue. I guess he called that number first, ‘cause he never called mine. We’ve laughed about that over the years.
And once he exiled us to the lunchroom for putting some dork’s chair on top his desk before he’d arrived for class. That was the best luck ever ‘cause it enabled us to get to know Julius and Charles, lunchroom staff, who later helped supply us with beer. Well, you know how it was back then, bein’ underage and all. Charles claimed that Julius played sax with Junior Walker & The All Stars! Truth was, however, Julius played sax and merely listened to Junior Walker. We started listening too.
Wayne and I got a D and F respectively in homeroom conduct. On my deficiency slip Mr. Dill wrote, “His smart mouth is not welcome in any classroom.” One of my highest compliments ever. Thank you, Mr. “School Is A Bizness” Dill, for helping us further down the road to coolness. And RIP.
I actually have many stories about Mr. Pickle, since he lived diagonally across the street from me. So,,, I will give you one good one today. I was in his Drivers Ed class for exactly 10 minutes. After which I got up, walked out of the classroom, walked down the hall, out the front door of Walker, and proceeded to walk home. My parents were pissed and I never got to drive until I was out of school.
Jimmy, Thank you again for one of the most entertaining moment’s of my high school years.
Sara Cooper Beacham
Junie, I had forgotten he was a hall monitor! “I don’ make th’ rules, I jus’ enforce ’em…”
LOL Thanks for the comments, guys! Wayne, I never had the opportunity to ride with him. I can only imagine what that would have been like! Sara, I wanted to mention roll call in the blog, but there simply wasn’t enough space. An example: “My-shell Moore.” “It’s Michelle.” “My-shell Moore.” “It’s Michelle, Mr. Dill.” “My-shell Moore.” “Here.” “Clara Muller.” “It’s Carla Mueller.” “Clara Muller.” “It’s Carla Mueller Mr. Dill.” “Clara Muller.” “Here.”
I love it!! Dill Pickle was a sour puss, wasn’t he? I hated when he was hall manitor too!
I loved this article! To this day I still have problems trying to decide at a red light weather to stop on the yellow light or not. I think of Mr. Dill Everytime. One day driving with him the light turned yellow so I slammed on the brakes and cane to an abrupt stop, he looked at me in his crooked way and said “that was a little rough stop don’t you think? The next red light I stomped that Oldsmobile with a big Quadrajet carburetor. He said ” a yelling, what you doing, what you doing? Are you trying to kill us?” I said “well, you didn’t like my last stop so I fixed that”.
Jimmy, My sister and I were two years apart in school and both of us took Mr. Dill’s Driver’s Ed class. Our last name was Tapp. He called one of us Tarp and the other Trap. I remember another of his lines that was meant to be a compliment. “You didn’t make my heart jump into my throat where I could chew on it.” Quite a character!