|
Chapter ? THE LITTLE RED SCHOOL HOUSE I guess the most profound statement that I can make about my little red school house was that it was white, and as near as I can tell, it always was. My father attended this same school some thirty years before me. It was white then and he thought it always was. The legend of the little red school houses on the prairie was born out of the fact that at the time that they were built, settlers didn't have much money with which to build them. At that time, red paint was cheaper than any other color, so many of them were painted red. This didn't seem to be the norm in our part of the country. These school houses all were built from one set of plans, one room portable buildings that could be moved to where the highest concentration of children lived. They measured about sixteen by twenty-four feet. They had three high windows on each long side with an entryway on one end. The first three to four feet, as you entered, were made into a cloak room. You could enter the main room from either end of this hall. This then, was the structure in which I spent eight years of my childhood some think it must have been ten or eleven. I can still remember that first day of school. This was a long awaited day for me as I had spent many days watching my brother and sisters leave, and return, and I wondered just what it was that went on in SCHOOL. When that day finally came, my two sisters, one in the eighth grade and one in the seventh, and I got into a large covered buggy and started off for school. This particular morning my dad was fixing the hog-lot fence along the driveway and he came over to ask me if I was really going to leave him and go off to school. I was sorely tempted to get out of the buggy but I just had to find out what went on in that school. Upon arriving at school, I entered much the same building that I have just described. The only difference was that a few years before, so many kids attended this school that it had to be enlarged. The hall cloak room was taken out and added to the main room and a small entryway was added on the end. This school never changed in appearance in all the eight years that I went there. Upon entering the main room from the entry, you immediately ran into a large chimney four feet inside the door. One could pass around this chimney on either side. There, just past this chimney, stood a large pot-bellied stove. This stove must have stood five feet tall and was about three to four feet in diameter. There were about fifteen desks in this room, arranged in four rows of three or four in a row. This school had five large slate blackboards, two along each side and one long one across the front wall . The right wall had one that was set down lower than the rest. This was so the smaller kids could reach it, for all classes spent time at the blackboard. In the very front corner of the room was a small built-in bookcase. It contained our whole library of reading books and some texts. Just in front of this, depending on where the teacher wanted to place them, were her wooden desk and chair. On top of the desk, between bookends, she kept an impressive group of books. On one side, stood a small, brass bell with a wooden handle. This bell announced the start of the school day. It also called us in from recess and our noon period. On the other side set some kind of small clock Just to the side of the desk was a bench. This is where we sat when we were called up to class. On the front wall directly behind the desk over the blackboard, was a set of out-of-date world maps. They rolled up and down like window shades. Old as they were, we still referred to them from time to time. In the front right corner hanging, from the ceiling on a pulley and rope arrangement, was a globe of the world. This globe was about one foot in diameter and could be pulled down to eye level for close inspection. Half way back, on the right side of the room, was a shelf extending out from the wall. This shelf held the big old Noah Webster Dictionary. Beside this, mounted on a window frame, was a hand operated pencil sharpener. In the right rear corner was a large metal book case that stood about seven feet tall. This contained the entire sets of text books for the whole school. On top of the book case was a hand-cranked working model of the solar system. It was an object of great curiosity, but in all my school years I never saw it demonstrated and no one was allowed to touch it. In the left rear corner of the room on a small table was a crock jar with a spigot at the bottom. This crock held about four gallons of water. This was our drinking and wash water for the whole day. Needless to say, there wasn't much water wasted on washing. On the table, by the crock, was a wash basin. Across the crock was printed the biggest lie I have ever seen. It said in large blue letters the words, "WATER COOLER." On long, hot fall and spring days, late in the afternoon this water was anything but cool. This, then, was my school and all its contents. Makes one wonder how this set up could turn out scholars such as I. Our school day was set up on a very rigid schedule. In my eight years in this school, it never changed. School started promptly at nine. At ten-thirty we had our first recess. At noon we had one hour off to eat and play. At two-thirty we had our last recess. Promptly at four we were dismissed for the day. Our school year was made of six six-week terms. Report cards were given out at the end these terms. When we reached the seventh and eighth grade, our school year was extended for two weeks. This was to give us some time to study for our county test. Each student had to pass a test made up and graded by the County Superintendent of Schools. These tests were a complete coverage of our prescribed course of studies for that year. There was always a nervous week or so waiting for our grades to come back from Redfield to see if we passed to the next grade. One thing that we had in our schools at that time was the Young Citizen League, Y.C.L. I think it was a shame that this, somehow, was discontinued. The Y.C.L. taught us patriotism, government, how to vote and hold office, and responsibility. We had officers we would vote on. This taught us how to nominate, second, and vote. We had to elect a president, vice president, secretary and treasurer. It was a mystery to me why we needed a treasurer. For, I don't think we ever had a dime in the treasury. We would meet every week or two and the president would conduct the meetings. We would discuss the important business that was at hand, and certain tasks had to be assigned. One of the important things to decide was where we would hold our year-end picnic. We could, about every two years, ask, our school board for a new softball and bat. They would usually comply. There were certain chores that were supposed to help the teacher. They could either be assigned or be voted on. Among these were: clean the erasers, bring in coal and kindling from the coal shed, see that the trash was picked up and the waste paper basket was emptied, and a play-ground monitor was assigned. The meeting would always end with the singing of the Y.C.L. song. The words to this song were meaningful and the tune was likeable and lively. I believe if you were to ask me, I could probably render the entire song, with gusto, from memory. Our school year was pretty predictable. It followed the same pattern year after year. Of course, it started in the fall on such nice, warm summer days that it was a shame to spend them in school. Probably our first event of the year would be a Halloween party. This was held in school in the afternoon. The time was spent playing games like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, Musical Chairs, and Blind Man's Bluff. We also bobbed for apples. There was no such thing as trick or treat. About this time our teacher would assign us readings, poems, and play parts. These would become part of our language and reading classes. These, of course, would all come together into the big event of the year--our Christmas Program. I will tell you more about that later. After Christmas we would soon see irregular, black shapes appear on the walls. Although you could not tell by looking, we knew that they were silhouettes of George and Martha Washington plus Abraham and Mary Lincoln. Those two presidents' birthdays were well emphasized. They, of course, happened about the same time as Valentines Day. This called for another party. This party would be about the same as the Halloween party except we would have the exchange of valentines. Good Friday and Easter were noted with coloring pictures of bunnies and flowers but not much special attention was given to them. After that, it was pretty much all down hill to the end of school and the year-end picnic. Of course, the big event of the year, was Christmas. It wasn't long after our parts had been assigned that excitement began to build. We now had to recite our poems and skits at the front of the room at least once a day. Every one worked especially hard to learn them for we now had a big incentive, our parents were going to come to hear us. Everyone, big and small, would have to recite a piece and take part in a skit. Of course, everyone sang all the songs. This event, like others in school, was progressive. As you grew older, more responsibility was placed upon you. This was true for decorating the school room as well as taking part in the play. Decorating the room was a very exciting event, for little if any, was done at home. As a small child, I envied the older ones who got to string twisted red and green crepe-paper streamers from one corner of the room to the other. These were placed near the ceiling. Each morning when the fire in our big stove was roaring, these streamers would dance and swing in the moving air currents. This only added to our excitement. Soon the teacher would bring in the tree. Everyone, big and small, got to decorate it. You can imagine what excitement this fostered, for many of us didn't have a tree in our homes. The first tree that I can remember in our home was one that my sister brought home from her school. I think I was in seventh grade at that time. We had no electric lights on our school tree and candles were not allowed. We used many glass ornaments, garlands and tinsel by the box full. The teacher had the privilege of furnishing the tree and all the decorations. When we were through we all agreed that there never was a tree, anywhere or anyplace, that ever looked finer. Some years our teacher would borrow a large music-box tree holder. It played music as the tree slowly revolved, showing all sides of the tree. It played two songs-a German one and Silent Night. I have never seen one to compare with it since that time. Soon our teacher would ask some of us to bring some sheets to school. The front eight feet of the school room had to be divided into three parts,. a stage and a dressing room on each side of it. I feel in those years that there weren't many spare sheets to be had. I know that the best ones went to school and we slept on what was left. Finally, the big day arrived. The whole day was spent in preparation for the evening performance. We even had dress rehearsal. The year of my first program we combined it with our neighboring school. This made for a large group of kids and parents in that small building. I remember that some parents came in that afternoon and set up three or four plank benches to help handle the crowd. How we all got into those two small sheet enclosed dressing rooms, I don't know, but I know that no one was allowed out side of them. The teacher stayed in one of these rooms and an older student was appointed to monitor the other one. They, of course, had to see that every one appeared at their proper time on stage. Not only that, they had to make sure that the props needed were available and ready. This was no small engineering feat in those cramped quarters. We were ready, I'm not sure our teacher was. The only program I seem to recall, with any clarity, was my first one. The rest all seem to meld together. I can remember our entire family loading into the bobsled and starting for school. A bobsled, of course, was used in the winter time when there was snow on the ground. It could be one of the most enjoyable forms of conveyance, or it could be one of the worst. If the snow was hard and icy, or if it was drifted into sharp high peaks, or if there were spots of bare ground here and there, it could become a rough ride indeed! On the other hand, if three or four inches of nice fresh snow had just fallen, it was the smoothest, quietist ride one could have. The runners of the sled were about four feet long and there were four of them. That length let them even out the rough spots. The soft new-fallen snow would muffle the horses' hooves as they trotted briskly along in front of us. Things were so quiet that the only sound seemed to be the jingling of the harness chains and rings. On cold, quiet nights this sound could precede the horses and sled by quite some distance. It would sometimes announce the arrival of individuals before they could be seen. People sometimes would hang belts, with bells on them, on the horses. This was usually done when you drove horses on a cutter or a buggy that had runners on it. This added a merry sound that traveled far on clear evenings. That night when we headed for school it must have been a nice evening, for I don't recall being cold. The moon was shining and we could see our breath as we rode along. As we topped the hill about one half mile west of our school, I was surprised to see the school windows brightly aglow. This evening two gas lanterns were hanging from the ceiling. It was only on these occasions that there was ever any artificial light in the school. When we arrived, there were other teams and sleighs in the school-yard. There were also some cars. Even with this large crowd and the mixing of two schools, our play was a huge success. I know, for my parents told me that it was. One thing you could always count on was the look of relief on the teacher's face. It made one think that she didn't feel we could do it. After the program, Santa, paid us a visit. We had drawn names and now small presents were exchanged. Then we had lunch, I think it was mainly popcorn balls that some of the parents brought. Hard as it was to believe, it was over. We now loaded into our bobsled and went home. Funny, I don't remember the ride home. One year the country schools were invited to send a Christmas act to town. These were to be put on at the city Municipal Building with every one attending. This was the Big Time. The teacher selected Duane Hildebrant and me for this dubious honor. I can still remember the play. In it, Duane, as a small boy, got a little greedy and hung up his father's large sock. I, as Santa, upon seeing the sock, assumed it was for a grown man and filled it accordingly. I put in a shaving kit and reading glasses. How in the world could Santa do such a thing! I guess there is a moral there someplace. I soon learned that getting to school and home was my responsibility. The first year was no problem, as my older sister was willing to drive a horse on our covered buggy to school. I have a very vivid memory of one ride home that year. In those years my mother raised turkeys and the hens would wander down this road and make nests. A nesting turkey will lay an egg almost every day until she has ten or twelve in the nest. Then she will stay on the nest to incubate them. The only problem with this is that wild animals will gladly take the egg, if left unattended too long. So Mother gathered the eggs at least once a day, kept them till she had an incubator full, and hatched them that way. On this particular morning, she asked my sister to stop and pick up the eggs that would be in the nests along our way when we returned from school. Now, a horse can become a creature of habit. It knew that it had to go to school, stay there through the day, and then bring us home. It always liked to get home as there was probably some feed waiting, and its work day was over. So on this evening, it could not see any sense in stopping along the way. My sister tried vainly to stop the horse by pulling in on the lines, but the horse would have none of it. When my sister decide she had lost this contest, she was a little "put-out." I can still remember her words, "If you want to go, then go". She then cracked it across the rump with the extra lines, and boy, did we go home! We made the sharp turn into our driveway and the horse headed for the barn where it wanted to be. There was a problem with this as the buggy was too high to go into the open barn door. Somehow this horse managed to approach the door at a full gallop, go through the door and stop before the buggy hit the barn. We were alright but my poor mother, who was excitable anyway, had seen the whole thing and was in a state of shock. I don't know if this had any influence on my younger sister, or not, but when the next year rolled around she decided we would walk. She thought, it was easier to walk than to hitch a horse to a buggy and drive back and forth. I didn't` agree with her, then, but now I can see the wisdom in it. The next year was the first year that I attended country school alone. But I was in luck, for some neighbors had a rather large Sheltland pony. They had just moved to town, and decided they could not keep it there. It was offered to me to keep until the next summer. The first morning, before I had really learned to ride it, I proudly climbed into the saddle and started off for school. A problem developed. No matter how I tried, I could not make this pony leave the yard. My father must have expected this, as he was watching us. He came over and got on this pony. At that time, Dad probably weighed two hundred and fifty pounds and his feet almost touched the ground. Once he was mounted, there was no more nonsense, and he proceeded to ride the pony in and out of our yard. After he had done this ten or fifteen times, he turned her over to me. The pony, by now, had had enough of this, so off we went to school. The next few mornings the pony would hesitate and balk a little but after a while we would go to school. It seemed to be a lot easier if Dad was in sight. This pony was black and white in color and, believe it or not, it's name was Spot. This pony soon learned that he had to go to that school, stand around a cold barn all day and return home to a warm barn and some oats. Now, a pony of this size can really move! We would go to school and back at break-neck speed. This was just fine with me. The rest of my years at school, I walked unless I was lucky enough to catch a ride. It was almost two miles to the school and that really was not such a long way to walk. In the winter, on cold days and the fact that it was up hill both ways, a person could get mighty cold. Even with overshoes, mufflers and mittens, I sometimes could hardly wait to get to school. Inside the school, the fire in our cast-iron stove would be roaring. It often would turn red with the heat. Sometimes, it even blistered the paint and varnish on things near by. We would stand in a circle around the stove, toasting on one side, freezing on the other. Sometimes, on cold mornings, it would be an hour or two before the school room warmed up. There was no such thing as a warm lunch program. We all carried our lunches to school. I carried mine in a gallon syrup bucket. My menu didn't vary much, two minced ham sandwiches, an apple, banana, or an orange, and on days when it was available, a piece of pie or cake. I often tell the story that it was a good thing that I was a Catholic, for I surely would have died before finishing school. I will tell you why. Mom had made many lunches before I came along, and she was somewhat tired of it. Since I liked minced ham, and it was easy to fix, this became the mainstay of my lunch-no problem on my part. It was my chore on Sundays, after church, to go into Roy Masse`s Meat Market and get ten cents worth of minced ham. This amounted to eight slices; two sandwiches a day for four days and, of course, on Friday something else. This was fine in the winter but in hot weather, with no refrigerator, this didn't` work so well. I'm sure that when Mom made the sandwiches on Thursday morning the meat looked fine, but after setting four hours in a tight, warm syrup bucket the outside of the meat would turn a pale green. The trouble was, I liked it better than the fresh. I'm sure if I have had one more day to go, it would have gotten me. Being Catholic does have its advantages! On cold days the lunch boxes would sit in the warmth of the school room. Left out in the entry, they would freeze solid. On cold days we would sit at our desks to eat. It would have to be very cold though for us not to spend some portion of our noon hour outside. In warm weather we were only too glad to go out and eat. We then could eat as fast as we wanted so we could get onto the fun and games. We enjoyed our playtime and made the most of it. The teacher almost always ate inside. We played dare-base, pump pump pullaway, fox and geese, cops and robbers, and cowboys and Indians. We skated, hunted gophers, and ate wild onions. We built snow forts, had snowball fights and played king of the hill on our forts. Most of our time, though, was spent playing softball. As I have said, we almost always had fourteen kids in school. This would make for two teams of seven each. Two of the older kids would choose sides. Of course, this would mean that at the end of the choosing, some first and second graders would have to be called. Now, there was no doubt they had to be a liability, each team would be better off without them, but never was there a thought of excluding them. Because of our burning desire to win, a coaching system evolved. Older kids would show them how to hold the bat, catch the ball, tell them when and where to run and encourage them in anyway possible. I don't think these small kids enjoyed their successes anymore than the coaches did. I sometimes wonder if the coaching systems of to-day are any better, or as good. I do know that some of us, when we graduated, were able to play high school varsity baseball as freshmen. These games would begin at our morning recess, continue through the noon-hour, and end at the conclusion of afternoon recess. Good sportsmanship was not always the order of the day, as the winners would leave the field shouting the hated, "we beat you". This was the cause of intense feelings during the day, but the funny part was that your hated enemy today was your teammate tomorrow. The school day had to be a teacher's nightmare. Although she may not have a lot of students, her class load was very heavy. Country schools usually had from six to eight grades in any given year. Each grade would have at least six classes a day, or more. This added up to a lot of preparation, corrections, grading, and testing. Thinking this over, one wonders how they ever managed to get it all accomplished in one six-hour day. The fact was they didn't. They took a lot of work home with them. Each class had it's allotted time, either at the small bench in the front of the room, or at the blackboard. This meant there were subjects being studied and presented from the first to eighth grade every day. I think this is why the schools worked as well as they did. Consciously, or not, I think students were always picking up knowledge from what was going on in the room. I know that I was always interested in history. I probably learned more on that subject, from classes that were taught in the grades above me, than I did when it was taught to me. I know this environment served me well in the years I attended grade school. It is hard to call oneself lazy but in those early years in school I couldn't have cared less as to what my grades were. We had the numbered system of grading in school, not the letter evaluation that has become more popular today. Seventy-five was passing and in the third, fourth, and fifth grade I passed with a whopping seventy-five. I think my teacher was lenient, at that. I know I drove her to distraction, for she felt that I could do better. I guess she was right, but I was having too much fun in school, especially during our play times. When she would threaten me with holding me back a year, that was fine with me, for that would give me one more year to play. Somehow, somewhere, in my sixth grade my interest picked up. It was a gradual thing, but I began to think that I could do better. I soon found myself listening to the things that the teacher was teaching younger students as well as to the things that I should be learning. I must have picked up the basics that way. Although I never was any Einstein I did not have any trouble the rest of my school years, even in college. I do not tell this to point to myself with pride, it's just that I feel this open room system helped make these schools successful. I think it is now time to say a word about those country school teachers. My mother, sister, wife, and one of my proof readers all taught these schools. They would probably skin me alive if I didn't tell what it was like to teach a rural country school. All jesting aside, I feel they had values that are not very prevalent today. There were not very many career options for young women in those days. Teaching was one, nursing was another. My older sister chose the first, my younger sister took the other. Women who became teachers were supposed to teach a few years, find a nice young man, marry him and then raise a family. After they married, they didn't teach, for women weren't supposed to work after they were married. As every one knows, being married and raising a family isn't work. My sister's generation was one of the first to break away from this tradition. After teaching for three years at the large salary of sixty dollars a month, she found herself going nowhere fast. Lured by the excitement and better wages of the west coast factories that had just geared up for war, she left South Dakota and joined my brother, who was in California. My younger sister followed a year or so later. My mother who came from Wisconsin, got her first teaching job in South Dakota. She worked for her board and room and must have saved her money. She only taught five or six years and, at the end of that time, was able to buy most of the furniture that my father and she had when they were married. I think my mother made about twenty to thirty dollars a month Teachers in those days didn't negotiate their salaries. School boards had "set salaries" and it was pretty much a take it or leave it deal. Teachers did not have much to say in regards to workbooks and supplies. They would have to "make-do" with what was available. Teachers were also the janitors, school nurse, in charge of discipline, counselors, party planners, play directors, and in charge of anything else that could, and would, arise during the day. The hardest work of all had to be starting fires to warm the building on cold mornings. Rural roads were bad at best, and in the winter, often impassable. The teachers would try, especially in the winter, to find a room at a parents' house close to school. This often was as far as a mile or two away. The teacher was expected to get herself to school. This most often meant walking, even in the winter. The crude stoves that the schools had at that time would not hold fire over night. In fact, they would be out for hours when the teacher arrived in the morning. Cold as she was when she arrived after her walk or ride to school, she would have to kindle a fire and wait in that cold room while it warmed. Why did they put up with this agony? I suppose that some of it was for the money, but it really wasn't that good. Some felt they were called to teach and must have enjoyed the challenge. Some said they liked to see kids learn and develop. Whatever the reason, thank God they were there when they were needed. They played a large part in developing this country, especially in the early days. Makes one wonder if the youth of today would rise to this challenge. I hope so. Just a little bit of school trivia. My father started school in what was known as the Taylor school. Schools often were named for the family that lived closest to the school. He attended that school for a short while, probably until about nineteen hundred three. My mother came to South Dakota and taught this same school some time between nineteen twelve to nineteen seventeen. My sister also taught this same school for three years, starting about nineteen thirty-eight. When my mother was teaching this school, she taught the oldest daughter of the Taylor family. This girl was in the first grade. The first year my oldest sister taught there, she taught the youngest girl from the same family. This girl was in the eighth grade at that time. When my father moved from that school he moved to a school two miles north and one mile west. The reason he and, his brothers and sisters moved was that the teacher at the first school seemed to lose track of time. Many times the teacher would continue teaching long past the dismissal time. This resulted in the children returning home from school very late. My grandfather wanted his older boys home on time, to help with the chores. The other school was no farther away, so he thought they would try this new one. It must have worked out better. Dad and all his brothers and sister attended that school. Then later on, all our family went there. It closed about one year before my oldest daughter would have started. Some who read this might have also attended a little red school. Recall if you will, some of the things that come to mind: The smell of a freshly oiled floor on the first day of school, the persistent clatter of that "hand held school bell" as it called us away from our play, the shriek of chalk against the blackboard, the gloom and fear as the wind howled around the school during a blizzard or dust storm, the taste of hot stale water from the water cooler, the fear of not having your lesson learned as you waited for the teacher to call on you, and she always did, the joy of the Christmas program, the delights of the school picnic in the gulch, the warmth and friendship between you and the other students, for this was your school-better than any other. People remember different things. The memory that comes most often to my mind is eating lunch by the old coal shed. On days when the wind was raw, and it really was too cold to eat out-side, some of us boys would take our lunches and go to the south side of the coal shed. There, out of the way of the north wind, warmed by both the direct and indirect rays of the sun, seated on the grass visiting about who knows what, we would happily eat our lunches. |
|
|