I love you little, Roses are red,

    I love you big, Violets are blue,

    Sugar is sweet,

    A little pig,

    And so are you.

One older girl gave me a valentine doll made from cardboard. The cardboard doll was wearing a pink dress. I thought it was beautiful even if the doll's legs got pulled off. I kept it for several years. All this was my first school experience. I could hardly wait to attend every day.

Finally, the time came when I would start school. The school was a country school, two miles north of Curlew. The year was 1921, and I was five years old and in the 1st grade. There was no kindergarten in our school, which was common in most rural schools. My brothers, Everett and Russell, were in the 6th and 8th grades, respectively, and also attended country school. The school had grades from one to eight with two and three pupils in each grade. A boy named Grady was my only classmate. I don't remember the total number of pupils in the school -- probably around ten.

Let me tell you about the schoolhouse. It was a typical box-like, one-room, country schoolhouse with a small entryway at the front and three large windows on each side. The windows had green shades that could be pulled down to keep out the sun. Inside on the front wall was a large blackboard, over which was written the alphabet in large cursive writing. Above this hung several rolls of maps and charts which the teacher pulled down like window shades. There were maps of Iowa, the United States, and faraway places. There were even phonics charts that had all kinds of letters, words, and groups of letters printed on them.

The teacher's desk sat at the front of the room facing two long rows of desks. Each desk was large enough for two children to sit side by side. The desks came in a standard 'student' size and the littlest kids could barely see over the top of them. Later, our school bought some smaller ones which made it nicer for the little kids. In front of the teacher's desk was a bench where pupils would sit and recite their lessons for the teacher.

And finally, above everything else was a picture of George Washington. There was also a picture of Abraham Lincoln on the back wall. I think all schools in those days had a picture of George Washington in the front and Abraham Lincoln in the back.

The entryway of the school was the place where you hung your coats and put your dinner bucket. My dinner bucket consisted of a half-gallon syrup pail with a wire handle. Generally lunch was two sandwiches made with freshly baked bread, and

an apple and maybe a cookie. Sometimes mother put a small jar of jelly in my pail to spread on my bread. I always liked bread and jelly.

Our teacher's name was Miss McCabe. I liked her very much. Miss McCabe would sometimes have us get out our ink pens and practice writing. This was called penmanship class, and I didn't like it at all. It was my worst subject. Each desk had a hole in the upper right-hand corner just big enough to hold your ink bottle. Most school work was done with pencils, but in penmanship class we usually wrote with pen and ink. It was a real messy time. She asked us to draw 'ovals,' and 'ups and downs', and all sorts of strange-looking things. These were the standard figures to draw in penmanship in those days. I guess they were supposed to control our writing. 

Ovals and Ups and Downs

Some kids could draw them nicely. I could not. Sometimes the ink would freeze and we'd have to put it next to the potbellied stove. I am thankful now for my word processor. Who would have ever thought. I only wish Miss McCabe could see it.

Oh yes, let me now tell you about my tin cup. On one side of the room was a small water cooler. The cooler was filled with fresh water every morning and every child had his own drinking cup. The cups all sat in a neat little circle around the cooler. My cup was a simple tin cup. Some kids had one of the newfangled ones that had multiple sections that closed like an accordion. These kids always bragged about their newfangled cups when they first got them. The newfangled cups would then start to leak after about a week. I told them they should get a simple tin cup like mine.

Sometimes Miss McCabe gave me the phonics pointer, and I would point to the phonics letters above the board while the other children gave the correct pronunciation. I was so proud. I, yes I, was the teacher. I could never understand why some of the others did not know these sounds. I did. Ego plus.

I have always credited Miss McCabe for my interest in reading. We had no reading books in our school so she had us cut out parts of a newspaper and underline the words we knew. This helped us with the words we knew and ask questions about those we didn't.

Oh yes, on Friday afternoons Miss McCabe always had something special planned for us. Quite often it was singing. Since Miss McCabe wasn't a good singer, she asked Everett to lead in the singing. He had a nice singing voice. One day Everett was not in school, and she asked me to lead the singing. The boys all teased me, but I didn't care. It was big stuff. More ego. Quite often we sang patriotic songs, and of course during the Christmas season we sang Christmas carols.

Telling jokes and riddles was always popular with the kids at our school. I particularly liked the riddle :

    As I was Going to St. Ives,

The other kids would try to count all these people and cats. The kid asking the riddle would stand by smugly knowing there was only one person going to St Ives, the others were, in fact leaving. I don't think any of us ever knew how many person and cats were actually leaving St. Ives.

Our school had a janitor. The janitor also happened to be Miss McCabe. Miss McCabe was both our teacher and the janitor. On Fridays Miss McCabe would let us out early and the younger kids would clean the erasers. This was a lot of fun since it consisted of clapping them together releasing clouds of dust. Miss McCabe said we should go outside when we did this. She would also sprinkle a sweeping compound, which looked like sawdust soaked in oil (which it probably was), on the floor, and the older boys would sweep it up.

Also, after the last class was dismissed on Friday afternoon, we had to clean out all the old scrap paper from our desks and put our books back in neatly. They sure got messy during the week.

Every year our school had a big Christmas program for our parents. We worked on this program for weeks. Children were given recitations which they spoke in front of the audience. I can still remember my first piece, which I memorized :

That would be about three-quarters of a century ago.

Later, when I was in 4th grade, I sang the song, Up on The Housetop. I memorized the words which I still know by heart. They are

There are two more verses. I knew them all. I still do.

During my school days my parents had a horse named Spot, which they brought to Iowa all the way from Illinois. My older sisters, Helen and Pauline, always told me Spot was a frisky one. When they wanted to ride her, they had to go to the pasture and catch her. When Spot didn't want to be ridden, which was usually the case, she would chase my sisters.

When I was in 1st grade, Everett and Russell also attended country school. They would hitch Spot to our old surrey and drive her to school. The surrey had no top and no seats. Come to think of it, it only had a floor. Oh yes, did I tell you that Spot liked to run ?

On cold days we boarded Spot in a barn near the school and she would spend the day eating hay. On warmer days we tied Spot to a post at the corner of the schoolyard. My brothers always picked up some water for the cooler for the kids to drink. It was hard to believe there was any water left in the pail with Spot always running flat out like she did.

The next year when I was in the 2nd grade, my oldest brother, Russell, began high school in Curlew, and Everett and I rode Spot bareback to country school. Sometimes we let a neighbor boy, Harold, ride with us. You've never ridden a horse until you've ridden three on a horse. I sat on Spot's shoulder blades, which were sharp; Everett sat in the middle, a soft spot; and Harold sat on Spot's rump, another cushy spot. Did I tell you that Spot liked to run ?

Everett loved the ride and so did I. Harold didn't care for it as much. When Harold didn't ride with us, Everett would kick Spot in her flanks. She'd then give us a warning buck, rear back, and away she'd go. What fun. Of course, I had my big brother's arms wrapped tightly around me. I was safe. I don't think Spot ever had a saddle on her in her twenty-seven years.

One day Everett, Harold, and I were riding home on Spot and the road was covered with ice. Spot was walking along very gingerly but slipped while walking up a small hill, causing Spot to fall and the three of us to tumble to the ground. None of the four of us was hurt, and Spot slowly got back on her feet. Everett then lifted me back on Spot and jumped back on himself. He then told Harold to do the same. Harold said he was going to walk the rest of the way home. Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat, we teased him. But there was no way that kid was going to get back on that horse.

But let me tell you about the dredge ditch, or the 'dredge' as we called it. A small drainage ditch ran across our farm and that of Harold's family and emptied into a dredge ditch that ran along the road a couple miles north of Curlew. In the springtime Everett, neighbor Harold, and I would walk along this dredge on our way to and from school. One of the things Everett and Harold liked doing was drowning out gophers. They would fill their lunch buckets with water from the dredge, and pour it down one of the hundreds of gopher holes that lined the road. The poor little gopher would come out of his home all wet and unhappy. The boys thought this was fun. The gopher did not.

One day in very early spring, when Everett and Harold were drowning out gophers, Harold's little brother, Robbie, and I were playing along the dredge. Robbie was in the 1st grade at the time. I know it was early spring because there was still ice on the dredge. I didn't walk on it but Robbie did. I kept telling him it might break. He just laughed and said that it wouldn't. Then, craaaaaaack and through he went. I yelled and Everett and Harold came running and pulled him out. The water was about a foot deep. He wasn't hurt but he sure was cold. We hurried on home. I can still see him running ahead of me - crying at the top of his lungs and running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

At the corner a mile north of Curlew was a small cement bridge, and under this bridge the water was always cool and crystal clear. The bridge also had a cement bottom at this spot over which the clear water flowed. We often stopped there and, using our dinner buckets, would scoop up minnows. There were millions of them down there. Of course we let them go. I've often wondered how much my mother worried about these activities.

By the time I was in the 4th grade both Russell and Everett were in high school in Curlew, and I went to country school alone. I didn't ride Spot since my dad thought it was too much work for me to board him every day.

Harold's little brother, Robbie, was now in school and Harold and Robbie would hitch one of their horses to a buggy and ride the buggy to school. Since Everett and I always gave Harold a ride on Spot, I thought it only fair they let me ride in their buggy. But I guess it wasn't an even trade since dad paid their family for the privilege of taking me to school every day. The only thing I had to do was walk the quarter of a mile to their farm.

On the first day this family explained to me that I wouldn't be riding in the front with Harold and Robbie, but behind the seats in a box of straw. This was the straw they use to feed their horse. So, I sat there dangling my feet and legs out as we went down the road. I thought Spot could go a lot faster than that old buggy.

I didn't mind my accommodations, but didn't think it was what my dad had in mind. That night when I told mother about my ride, she was quite unhappy and went to see our neighbors. She told them that her little girl was to sit in the front with Harold and Robbie. The next day I didn't have to sit in the straw. So off we go to school again -- Harold and Robbie poking me in the ribs all the way -- hard. I wanted to get back in the feed box. From that day on I walked to country school.

Now I would walk by their farm when they rode in the buggy. They would often stop, however, and ask if I wanted a ride. Sometimes I would say yes, and sometimes I would say no. Sometimes, they would come out of their driveway real fast and head down the road like they hadn't seen me. I knew they'd seen me, but I didn't care. On the occasions when I did ride in their buggy, I just climbed into the straw box behind the seats and let my feet dangle. Sure did not want to feel those elbows any more.

In the winter I had to face that cold north wind. Sometimes I would stand behind a big old cottonwood that stood along the side of the road. Of course I wore a heavy coat and cap, scarf, and long-legged underwear, but it was still cold. But I didn't wear slacks as girls today do, I wore a wool skirt, as did all the other girls. But soon I had to face that north wind again and get back on that road. Oh how nice it was when I reached the schoolhouse and warmed my hands over the potbellied stove. So warm.

Every country school had two outhouses, or privies as the boys called them. There was one for the girls and one for the boys. They were always located at opposite corners in the back of the schoolyard. Students were only supposed to use the outhouses during recess or during the noon hour. At the end of recess when the teacher rang the bell, some of the boys would head for the outhouse to avoid going back into the classroom. Sometimes the Miss McCabe would have to go after them. How they hated to come in.  You see now, the sweater is starting to take shape. I hope my friend likes it. She always did like wool sweaters. So, where was I ? Oh yes, country school. So long ago. If you drive by my old school now you will see only a  cornfield.   Just go two miles north of Curlew and look on the right-hand cornfield.  Just go two miles north of Curlew and look on the right-hand side of the road.  The dredge is gone too, of course.  So much for the past.  Let's see now, I was telling you about ...