SCHOOL MEMORIES

 

          The other day I was having a conversation with my granddaughter Haley. We were talking about how she’d like to live in the country at some point in time. This led to my telling her about a couple of Idaho memories that came to me just then.

          It must have been first or second grade when the class learned how butter was made. The teacher brought in a Mason jar of cream. While she read us a story, we passed that jar from desk to desk, each of us shaking the contents for however long our allotted turn lasted. It was amazing how eventually we ended up with butter which the teacher spread on saltines and we all sampled.

          Haley told me there was some report on TikTok about how people were putting cream in a container then into a plastic bag and finally into the dryer. As that bag flopped around in the dryer, it apparently made butter. I don’t think there were clothes dryers in 1950.     

          In probably second grade, the class made ice cream in an old ice cream churn. Again, the teacher brought the churn and cream to class, and I remember some of the boys being sent outside into to scoop up snow and ice to help with the process. I don’t remember much else about it although I’m sure we all got a chance to help churn the cream.

          I haven’t thought about that old school in some time. It was past Burke and the silver mine, across the bridge over the river and up a hill. I think there were enough kids back then to make up one class per grade. It didn’t have a kindergarten, so my mom lied about my age and put me in first grade when I was four, almost five years old. It was fine though because I was already reading. I believe it held grades one through six, but it could have been through eighth grade. I don’t remember if there was a junior high school, but I’m sure there was a high school which would have been in Wallace.

          We began every day saying the Pledge of Allegiance and singing the Star Spangled Banner. I don’t remember much else about the classes (I only attended through third grade). I do remember learning to write cursive. It was the old Palmer Method of Cursive Writing. I never became an exemplary student of this method, eventually trying various methods of writing. I tried writing backward as though left handed, tried printing rather than writing, and finally ended up with a sort of cross between printing and writing. The one person I’ve known who had beautiful Palmer Penmanship was a previous boss. I never ever had to try to figure out what he wrote because the penmanship was perfect.

          Now, of course, my writing is absolutely horrible. I thought perhaps it was because I’m older, but I think the problem is that I rarely write anything out. I write a few checks each month, short reminder notes sometimes, but that’s about it. So, I think my handwriting suffers simply because I don’t utilize it. I wonder what my old boss’ penmanship looks like now?

          I began fourth grade in Burke Elementary, but the family moved and I ended up at B.F.Day in Seattle. I remember being shocked by the fact the curriculum (which was a word I didn’t know then) seemed to be the same as what I’d had in third grade in Burke. My mom always thought that’s when I became lazy about schoolwork and it might have been. I do remember one spelling test where I misspelled one word and was so upset with myself. The word was field and I spelled it feild. I knew that word, had already had it and still missed.

          To get to school in Idaho, I had to catch a bus that took me up the canyon. There was always a passel of us waiting to get on to go as well as to come home. Imagine my surprise when we moved to Seattle and I had to walk from my house to the school…all uphill!!! Even after graduating to junior and high school, I walked to and from. There were no Seattle school busses then because most children attended their neighborhood schools. At least that’s how I remember it.

          There may have been Seattle school busses by the early 1960s because I remember my senior year of high school, there were three black students, the first ever during my time there. Two girls and one boy and they pretty much hung out together on their own. I remember feeling sorry for them because they seemed a little lost and yet I didn’t make a single friendship overture. I’m sorry about that now because getting to know them could have added much to my life and maybe theirs as well. 

           It’s funny how Haley talking about wanting to eventually live out in the country led to these memories, days after our conversation. Guess my old 286 is still plugging away up there.