“It’s tough. It’s tough to grow up.”

An Oral History of John Gustafson

My mom died when I was four and I was raised by an aunt.  You know and I had no siblings. I went to a small high school, you know, sixty-two in the class. Back in those days, with living on a farm, you just did what you were told and you had to do everything by hand. I taught my grandpa how to drive a car myself; I taught him how to drive a tractor! And I was like what, eight or nine years old maybe when I started driving? But everything was kind of different then, I mean, from the standpoint of growing up— families were strong, you know, they had rules, ya did certain things, and nobody ever really got outta line. It isn’t like today, where if ya don’t like something, ya spout off you know?

Grandma (1) always said I had manure on my shoes. (laughs) And I probably did! My dad was a dairy farmer. We milked and we hauled... I think in sixth grade I was drivin a truck to school to deliver the milk to the creamery in town so they can make the butter and cheese and all that. I got in a little trouble because all of the teachers would have lunch together for the lunch hour at the elementary school, and I was drivin’ my pickup around the school with all the kids in there, and well, they didn’t like that at all (laughs). So… I couldn’t do that anymore.

(John with his wife Ruby.)

I didn’t play football in high school until I was a senior, and I wanted to play in the worst way, but I lived in the country. So after practice, the townspeople were supposed to take the players home— and well that lasted about two weeks— so then every night after practice I’d have to hitchhike thirteen miles home. And a lot of the time the last three miles were gravel roads and it was dark— I was afraid of the dark— and I just ran. And ya know that’s just the way it was, we just kinda accepted that.

Yeah I rode the school bus for fifteen miles everyday. And I hated it. I hated the bus. And the rule was if you fought on the bus, the bus driver would stop and kick you out, no matter where you were. You had to walk from there. And I can’t tell ya how many miles I walked. My dad would say, “You’re late again! What’d you do this time?” Well one of my sisters was retarded at birth, but she grew up pretty normally and she got through a few of the elementary grades— they just kept passing her like they did all the kids in those days. We were in Junior High and one of the big senior kids was teasing her, and it really ticked me off, ya know, and I was pretty protective of her. So I don’t know how many fights I got in over trying to protect her. My dad would say “What’d you do this time?” and I’d say “Well this guy was pickin’ on Mary again,” and he’d say “Well Jesus cripes do something about it!” And I did. I came home and I hardly had any clothes left on— I fought in the ditch for about a half an hour with this kid.

When I was eighteen years old I started at the University (2), and then my dad got his arm caught in a corn picker so I had to drop out of school, and went home. And then when I went back to school I went to Gustavus— that’s where my mother graduated from. I served two years in Berlin, Germany— I was nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. The military was really an eye-opener for me because that’s when integration came in for the blacks, and I’d never been around a black person in my life till I got to college. We went down to Gustavus (3) and played…oh who did we play… well somebody, and we had a kid from Albert Lea (4) — I can’t think of his name right now— but he was black. And they wouldn’t let us eat in the restaurant down in Kansas City and they wouldn’t let us in the hotel either. We had to go to a cheaper hotel. I mean, I couldn’t believe that! We’re all sitting in the restaurant, and they wouldn’t serve us. And, ya know we all got up and left. So you grow up with those kinds of things. When I was in Berlin, Germany, we had four hundred replacements come in one month, and three hundred of em were black. And holy criminy!  There used to be some real battles even among the soldiers. But, ya know you kinda learn to live with that. It was kinda fun to be in Berlin at that time— that’s when they built the wall. If you were an American soldier, you could never go out of your district. I mean the Russians were there, the French were there, the British were there, the Americans were there— it was a four-powered city.

And it was really fun. I played football there, and that’s all I did really. But I got put in Special Services (5) so I was kinda like an athletic director for eight thousand men in the city, and we had all the facilities— swimming pools and all that. In the army, nobody knew how to teach swimming. I was one of the few soldiers that had the WSI (6) — which I had earned. So this General’s idea— was that all the soldiers had to learn how to swim (laughs). Oh God! We had guys who hated water, let alone swim in it! I’m not kiddin’ ya! They’d never been in a pool. And the test was, they’d push ya into a ten-foot-deep swimming pool, and you had to swim to the shallow end.

(John poses for picture day as a 

teacher at North St. Paul High School.)

And if you couldn’t do that, you had to learn how to swim. That was the criteria. And I had a lotta guys that were supposed to be lifeguards— pretty good sized guys— but geez they’d get in the water and “kah-splooosh!” they’d go down, they’d be blowin’ bubbles, and they couldn’t move! And we’d have to pull em out. Wow, what an experience that was. But I’ll tell ya, a lot of em learned how. They learned very quickly. But, eh, it’s a forced situation

My mother was a teacher, and good Lord, I love teaching. I’m still doing it. I taught health and social studies and I had American history— I think I might have lost the civil war one year, I’m not sure (laughs)— but you’ve gotta be a different person to handle all those kids.  I had a kid who tried to shoot me at North St. Paul High School! I mean and I found the gun! And the school you know they didn’t wanna do anything about it because that’d be entering his private locker well the gun was there, and I knew it was there! You know I had to go and bribe the secretary to get a key to get in to get it.  Here’s the biggest part in school today: a lot of kids can’t read. I taught American history and in my first class— I’ll never forget it— I had six kids out of thirty that couldn’t even barely read the book. Well how are you gonna learn anything when you can’t read? I remember going to the library and talking to the old librarian there and she said “Well here, take some of these elementary history books.”  I tried to do it that way. Those kinda kids today get pulled out and put in special reading classes— like Jimmy (7) did for about three years.  (To Ruby) We have, what, three Kindergarten teachers (8)? They’ve got kids coming to school that don’t know how to blow their nose. Well they’re gonna blow it on you, ya know what I mean? They can’t tie their shoes. They can’t handle anything because they’re not organized or disciplined enough to really wanna learn.   And boy you really see it when I talk to my Kindergarten teachers, (laughs) ohhh no I could never do that.  But I think education will always be good because they’ll never be able to get rid of education. 

(John pictured with his wife and kids. From left to right, Pete, Dawn, John, Nancy, Ann, Beth, Ruby, Jim, Paul and Jenny)

I always felt that the harder I work, the more success I had. And I think that’s really true.  At eighty-three I’m still out there teaching driver’s education. I’ve always been a firm disciplinarian with the kids. When I teach a class, I don’t use any films or anything— I don’t have to. I’ve got so many experiences that I can talk for three hours without stopping. And the kids love it! But when I get em in the car, teaching them to drive… well, I don’t have many kids who fail their driver’s test, I’ll tell ya that. They’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing! If you could hear me give my first lecture on the first day of Driver’s education… well lemme tell you half of the kids don’t even want to come back to the second day of class because I just tell em the way it is. You either shut up and listen and do what you’re told, or you’re not gonna pass the test! And that’s kinda how life is. Gotta have some brakes, and gotta follow the rules. Some people think they can make their own rules, so I tell the kids in driving that when you’re going down the road, you don’t know what other guy coming toward you down the road is gonna do— and this is what you’ve gotta be aware of. You can’t be talkin’ on the phone or thinkin’ about something else. It’s tough. It’s tough to grow up.  You know you’re living in a world and

you may not like it politically, you might not like it economically, but you’re still here— where ya gonna go? Be blessed with what you can do and enjoy it.

Take care of your body, and it will always allow you to pursue the course. Enjoy your work, do you best, and good results will follow. Appreciate your family, enjoy the children as they learn what life is all about. Hard work will get you to where you want to go. Set goals.  Don’t put yourself down. Look for the good things in others. Make your own decisions on your life’s direction, but don’t be afraid to ask for help.

FOOTNOTES

(1) In reference to John's wife, Ruby

(2) University of Minnesota--Twin Cities

(3) Gustavus Adolphus College, located in St. Peter Minnesota.

(4) A city 98 miles south of Minneapolis. Southern Minnesota.

(5) Entertainment and recreation branch of the American Military

(6) Red Cross designation for a certified swimming teacher. (Water Safety Instructor)

(7) John's biological son
(8) Three granddaughters who currently teach kindergarten.

STORY FACILITATORS

Ben Hersman, Erin Griffin, Michael Gavilan Blaz