I loved school!!! There was no pre-school. No daycare centers. Hard to believe but mothers stayed at home. Kindergarten was mostly learning to count and to know our numbers and alphabet. We learned nursery rhymes and sang songs. We took naps on the rug we brought from home. My favorite place in the room was the sand box. It’s hard to imagine such simple things were required to be passed to first grade.
Everything in the 1940s was different from today. Most of my women teachers were single women because married women were not allowed to teach. My mother actually began teaching at age sixteen in a one room school but when she married she could not be hired. First and second grades were all about learning to print, to read, to do simple math. Blackboards were filled with words and numbers, “Dick and Jane” books, desks nailed to the floor, and strict order in the classrooms. We learned respect, love for country, and holding up your hands to answer questions.
One of the earliest realizations I had was that I was left- handed. I was often scolded for not being able to cut with scissors. It made me feel self-conscious. The teachers tried to change my printing and later cursive to my right hand. No luck!
My favorite teacher in my early years was a young, very attractive woman. I couldn’t wait to get to school just to see her. Unfortunately I missed many days in first grade because I constantly had ear infections. No antibiotics. Just home remedies that didn’t work. Finally the Doctor felt my problem was connected to tonsils. One day Daddy picked me up and with my sister went to the hospital and our tonsils were removed. I enjoyed the ice cream I ate for three days after surgery. No one felt tonsils were important anyway????
It soon became apparent, even in my early grades, that I was an overachiever. I have never understood why I was disappointed with a B. Whether it was school studies, hopscotch, or kicking a football, I gave total energy. Somehow I truly enjoyed the challenge of winning. It also had its problems. The word “anxiety “ was not used much but I probably put too much pressure on myself to achieve. Maybe my father set a high standard for doing tasks well. He expected his girls to accomplish chores with a sense of pride. I began to realize that teaching was what I might desire as a career.
My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. George, was such a kind and gentle person. Yet, she did not have any trouble keeping order in the classroom. She read a chapter every day in books that were exciting. She offered prayer in the morning and encouraged everyone to be the best possible person. I knew I wanted to be like her. I studied so hard that year and had a report card with total A’s. Now it became apparent that being top student was what was expected by my parents and myself.
Most of my free time and fun included friends and family. It seemed that there was an abundance of times that we just played hide and seek at night. We had softball games totally organized by children, not parents. We played jump rope and croquet.
Sixth grade was such an exciting year because our teacher was the basketball coach. He was young and so handsome. I did not realize it then but I had a crush on him. I sat in the first seat in front of his desk. Something very historical happened that year, 1951: the Civil Rights Movement actually affected my small town and my life. For the first time three black children were enrolled in my class. They had previously been a part of the segregated school called Lincoln School. Integration had become law. These students became my dear friends over the years. Also this year we changed rooms and teachers for different subjects. What fun!
When I finished at Washington School, I had established myself as a person who admired my teachers and they encouraged me to continue to high standards academically. I was awarded for my many hours of studying when I finished first in my class at eighth grade graduation. I also sang a solo on that occasion. NO, I have not mentioned singing yet, but it’s a whole subject that requires a separate page.