The School Of 3 Corners Albert W. Caron, Jr.   © Copyright 2026 by Albert W. Caron, Jr.

Photo by Sven Kucinic on Unsplash

The school’s name derived from the intersection of three roads. It had no physical building or campus.  Wide wooden steps leading to a second floor Mason’s Hall served as our classroom since we neither had desks nor chairs. The broad sidewalk next to the corner drugstore became an additional classroom when that group held their monthly meeting.  Students and “faculty” met only during summer vacation.

Admission to The School of 3 Corners was via word of mouth. There was no entrance exam, tuition or fees.  In addition, no one had to study for tests since none were given. Neighboring students of the intersecting roadways enrolled easily. However, enrollment never exceeded more than a dozen students and faculty combined. Classes were held three to four days per week but never on Fridays.  Attendance was voluntary and absences were never recorded.  Class was only cancelled for thunderstorms which were the equivalent of a snow day in public schools.

There was no dress code. Nobody wore shorts or Bermudas in those days, just blue jeans and white T-shirts. Ironically this became the de facto school uniform.  Students went hatless, no baseball caps.  Not the style in the early 60’s. Chuck Taylor or Keds’ hi-top black sneakers became the footwear of choice.

The core subjects and material kept me going back night after night. Biology became the curriculum’s focal point as we experienced our own growth spurts and other changes. The “birds and bees talk” from an embarrassed or tongue-tied Dad didn’t fully explain these bodily changes to many of us. The school’s faculty, however, filled in the missing facts to these questions. In detail.  

Our curiosity also extended to the female sex naturally. Thus, we devoted some time to this subject. Older faculty members were able to bring a textbook which turned out to be an old issue of Playboy magazine.  This “textbook” provided distinct uses to the biology course.  It also taught us to speed read the extensive articles and view the colorful pictures to learn and to appreciate art and photography. As a result of this explicit curriculum, no girls enrolled in the school.  Which was fine with us.

In chemistry we discussed drugs mainly. Older faculty cautioned us to stay away from hard drugs, specifically cocaine and pot.  The two other drugs discussed included nicotine and alcohol.  Several students smoked cigarettes and I tried smoking on occasion.  I didn’t have parental permission but bummed a smoke from a classmate every now and then.  Camels and Lucky Strikes became the two brands which I tried and neither had a filter like Winston.  I didn’t inhale, otherwise I would cough, getting snickers from the assembled student body while I choked.

Classes in alcohol were extremely enlightening.  Some had tasted wine at holiday gatherings and provided opinions. I had sipped sweet wines such as Mogen David. Others sipped beer purchased by older brothers with questionable ID’s.  We had lively discussions on vodka. It became a teen favorite since we learned to mix this colorless liquid with orange juice or tomato juice leaving our breaths odorless so our parents would not know.

Our third major subject area, music, brought lively debates about Rock ‘n Roll. We shared our favorite singers and groups of the day such as Elvis, Joan Baez, Jan and Dean, the Everly Brothers, the Beach Boys and emerging English bands.  We argued about the lyrics, rhythm and beat in a song and used the American Bandstand rating system for new songs.

While the three key courses took center stage, we did chat about sports.  We talked mainly about the Boston Red Sox and the Celtics more than any other pro teams. Inevitably when we spoke about the Sox, we hoped they would give the dreaded Yankees a run for their money. Sadly, that never occurred in our youth.  The Celtics, though, were our pride and joy, winning championships year after year knowing that they would always be in contention.

In current events we were proud of President Kennedy and hoped he would make a difference in our country and the world. However, in the issue of civil rights, we abhorred the treatment of Blacks in the South who sought equal rights. Sadly, we watched marchers being clubbed and sprayed with fire hoses by police on the television news.

One less formal course developed into serious explanations on providing simple automobile maintenance. I learned how to check all car fluids including the windshield, brake, antifreeze and especially the oil level and to change it every 3000 miles. Since my parents only had a standard shift car, this meant knowing how to use the clutch and gas pedals in combination when the time came to apply for our driver’s license. If we got our car license on a stick shift, we could drive an automatic also. At that time, if one received a license on an automatic transmission, one could drive only an automatic engine, not a standard.

During a break in classes or if the heat and humidity became oppressive, I would head into the corner drugstore which had air conditioning. There I could cool off for a short time as I sat at the four-seat marble fountain top and order my usual: a vanilla Coke.  More often than not during those summers, we sat on the covered steps.  A few times a beat cop told us to move along or head home.  We would separate for 10-15 minutes as he continued his walk, then we would return to our campus once again. Classes generally emptied out around 8:00 as the sun set.

Once I turned 16, my goals and priorities shifted. New students, whose older brothers attended classes with me, asked the same questions we did. Instead of finishing that last summer session, I transferred to another school: Driver’s Education and began my first real job working in a local hospital kitchen.  In both places I utilized the knowledge acquired during those summers.  

I had high expectations when I enrolled in The School of 3 Corners that first summer. The curriculum enticed me to return each evening as a student thirsting for answers about life. I achieved my objective, getting the best street education possible. As Labor Day approached, the school closed as we prepared for real high school classes. There were no graduation exercises. I never received a diploma on parchment paper bound in a faux leather folder with the school’s seal or signed by a faculty member. But I earned my shingle in life sciences with a minor in self-confidence that carried me through the remainder of adolescence to adulthood as a rite of passage.