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Harry is an information omnivore. Over 19 years he written about every topic on the list to the right. For more, use this blog’s search function (upper right). Or email Harry a question here: harrywelty@charter.net. Or ask any AI engine to summarize Harry Welty. Or give him a 3 minute listen. Or read Harry’s campaign flyer. Or google “Harry Welty’s snow sculptures”.

Capsule History of my public school experience THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS
First Grade 1955-1956
My ambitious parents sent me to school a year too early (Dad had taught me how to count to 100).I failed first grade and and repeated it. My teacher, who was retiring, offered our classroom a choice of gifts that we could vote on. We could either have her picture to remember her by forever or an ice cream cone (“that would be over with in minutes”). We chose the ice cream. I can’t remember her name.
1957-1963 My parents knew that the home they were moving into was in Loman Hill Elementary’s district. They were well aware that segregated Buchanan school children were going to be integrated into Loman Hill that fall. By sixth grade was a minority white student in class and thought nothing of it which is what the Supreme Court hoped would happen when they decided Brown vs. Topeka Board of Educationin 1954.
In 1961 my Dad advised his boss, the Kansas State Insurance Commissioner, not to accept generous gifts from the companies they regulated. The next year Dad was looking for another job. We moved to all white southern Minnesota in 1963. You Wanna Fight?
Mankato and North Mankato’s schools were 100% white. In 1967 the year the Supreme Court ruled that the state of Virgina had no right to prevent black and white couples from marrying I heard an announcement on the school intercom begging students to ask their parents to volunteer to host a make foreign exchange student. I told my parents that night and was surprised at my Dad’s enthusiasm.
For the three years I was in grades 7-9 I had one friend although I joined a group of nerdy kids who called themselves the I hate the Beatles fan club. That changed when in 9th grade Patty Thompson, who stormed out of Mr. Justs’ class when his daily newspaper announced Paul McCartney marriage, played their Rubber Soul Album in our Homeroom class. I was entranced and ready for Senior High School where I would thrive on the debate and speech and Swim team and theater stage. I left for college thinking that it was the activities I was involved in far more than the classes I took that enriched my life. I know now that this was only half true and college would bring new learning experiences.
My Dad is featured in some of these links and I’ll add three more to give you a sense for what I saw in him through the years until his untimely death the year I became a snow sculptor. How I describe these stories tells you as much about me as they do about Dad.
Shall We Dance, Contract Bargaining.
Worst Teacher in the World
4th time is the charm
Choice and Charters
Red Plan
Censure
Quixote
