October 2016
Page 27
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On September first, 1940, I entered grade school. There was no
kindergarten there, so I started in first grade at age five. There
were only six other students in that country school, all boys, and all
older than I.
I recall having lots of help from the older students during tests and
as a five-year-old, I also got lots of attention from my teacher, Miss
Lois Studley. How many of you remember the name of your first-
grade teacher?
The one-room school had a wood and coal fired pot-bellied stove in
the middle of the room, and I recall that it turned cherry-red when it
got hot.
In those days, most boys quit school after the 8th grade in order to
work on their parent's farm or ranch. Many girls only went to school
for the first few grades. All three of my oldest siblings only went
through the 8th grade. My next oldest brother finished high school
and went to college. My younger brother and I completed high
school and college.
Many of us consider those with only an 8th grade education as
being uneducated. That may be true today, but it wasn't in the ‘30s
Early School Days
by Hap Hansen
and ‘40s. Today, an 8th grade and even a high school education
wouldn't get many very far in our computerized, technological
world. Back in those days, one had to correctly answer some various
and difficult questions to be able to go on to high school. A few
examples:
–What are the parts of speech and define those that have no
modifications.
–Define verse, stanza and paragraph.
–Write a 150 word composition using the rules of grammar.
–Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.
–Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton, Bell, Lincoln, Penn
and Howe?
–What is climate?
–Upon what does climate depend?
–Name all the republics of Europe and give the capitol of each.
A tough exam for 8th graders. I wonder how many of us educated
folks could pass that exam today?
The next time you meet an old-timer with just an 8th grade
education, give them some respect.
Windsor Writers
Theme: Early School Day Memories
Her father lifted her down from the pickup and held one trembling
hand as they walked up the path to the red schoolhouse. Her other
hand automatically went up to cover her mouth, even though you
had to look twice to see the tiny scar. When she was still just a baby
her father had sold a thousand-dollar painting and used the money
to pay for the reconstructive surgery.
Carrie wasn’t used to being around other children, except for her
two cousins James and Owen. Whenever Aunt Alice would bring
them over to visit, they would tease her about her lip.
Since her mother had died giving birth to her five years ago, Carrie
and her father had moved in with her grandmother who helped
raise her. Grandma let her help pick the strawberries and feed the
chickens, although she wasn’t big enough yet to gather the eggs, as
the scolding hens would peck at her hands and face.
Carrie was small for her age. Once a month they would come to
town and rent a stand at the flea market where Grandma sold her
preserves and homemade pies and Daddy set up his paintings.
Some of the people who came by would talk baby-talk to her,
thinking she was just a toddler. It was embarrassing!
Carrie already knew her alphabet and Daddy was teaching her
how to read. Grandma was teaching her arithmetic as they played
“Count the Beans” at the kitchen table.
When her father opened one of the big white double doors they
were greeted by a long hallway that went all the way to the back
of the building. Most of the classroom doors were closed, so there
was a moment of hesitation. Which one was the kindergarten class?
The First Day of School
by Marilynn Reeves
Then they saw a lady standing in an open doorway beckoning them
forward. “You must be Carrie,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Larson. Come on
in.”
As they stepped inside the classroom Carrie saw the letters of the
alphabet in a row of alternating primary colors on the wall above
the blackboard. The other walls were covered with children’s
pictures done in colored crayon.
The room was filled with small desks and tables and chairs. There
were shelves of toys and games and big plastic canisters filled
with hundreds of crayons. And there were at least a dozen other
children, who all looked up when they walked in.
Carrie buried her face in her father’s coat. But then she opened
her eyes and saw the face of Mrs. Larson, who was bent over and
looking at her sideways with a big gap-toothed smile. She looked
like a jack-o-lantern, and Carrie had to stifle a giggle.
A girl with a blonde ponytail came up and tapped her on the
shoulder. “Hi, my name’s Sarah. Will you sit with me?” Sarah was
the prettiest little girl Carrie had ever seen, except that she had one
bad arm, which she held close to her body. It was half the size of
the other one and looked like a chicken wing. She enveloped Carrie
with her good arm and gave her a hug. Then she led her over to an
empty chair next to the one in which she’d been sitting.
Carrie looked back at her father and waved goodbye, grinning ear
to ear. It was the first day of school and little Carrie O’Leary was
going to be just fine.
