Goldie (Widdersheim) Nielsen
Having completed normal training in Bladen High School and having successfully passed the state teacher’s examination, Goldie Elizabeth Widdersheim, began early in the spring of 1923 applying for a position as a rural teacher for the following fall. The fact that she wouldn’t turn sixteen until May of her senior year was a decided drawback, but she finally got a contract to teach at District 12 – a one-room schoolhouse in Webster County, near Bladen, Nebraska. Upon winning the nine-month contract which paid $70 a month she was then eligible to attend summer term at the teacher’s college in Kearney.
So, in the fall of 1923, Goldie reported to District 12 for her first teaching assignment where her roster consisted of 23 pupils – some of them older than her. Five of her students were eighth graders with the other pupils being distributed among the other seven grades. The rural school eighth graders had to pass the county examinations before being eligible for high school. The exams were given in Arithmetic, Mental Arithmetic, Language (Grammar), Geography, History, Civics, Agriculture, Reading, Spelling, Art and Penmanship. The children were given two chances to take the tests – one in March or April and the other in May. If a teacher got her pupils through these tests, her reputation was established as a good teacher. Needless to say, Goldie was delighted that all of her eighth graders passed the exams and equally pleased to return to District 12 in the fall of 1924 where her roster increased to 28 students and her salary increased by $5.00 per month.
Goldie taught a total of six years in one-room schoolhouses in Webster County. In addition to District 12, she also taught at District 42 where, interestingly, her young brother Clinton was a student, and where in the fall of 1931 her younger sister, Ipha Widdersheim, became the teacher after Goldie moved on to teach 7th & 8th graders in town.
Goldie later taught in Upland, Nebraska where she met and married Walter Nielsen. From 1942 until 1958 she took a break from teaching to care for their three children. She returned as a junior high teacher in Upland Public Schools in the fall of 1958 where she continued teaching until Upland consolidated its junior high and senior high students with the Minden, Nebraska school district. She retired permanently after commuting to Holstein Public Schools for two years. However, her years of belief in the importance of education to our society had rubbed off on her own children. Both Bob and Susan graduated from UNK and spent years teaching children – Bob at the high school level for 18 years and Susan at the pre-K level for many years.
Having completed normal training in Bladen High School and having successfully passed the state teacher’s examination, Goldie Elizabeth Widdersheim, began early in the spring of 1923 applying for a position as a rural teacher for the following fall. The fact that she wouldn’t turn sixteen until May of her senior year was a decided drawback, but she finally got a contract to teach at District 12 – a one-room schoolhouse in Webster County, near Bladen, Nebraska. Upon winning the nine-month contract which paid $70 a month she was then eligible to attend summer term at the teacher’s college in Kearney.
So, in the fall of 1923, Goldie reported to District 12 for her first teaching assignment where her roster consisted of 23 pupils – some of them older than her. Five of her students were eighth graders with the other pupils being distributed among the other seven grades. The rural school eighth graders had to pass the county examinations before being eligible for high school. The exams were given in Arithmetic, Mental Arithmetic, Language (Grammar), Geography, History, Civics, Agriculture, Reading, Spelling, Art and Penmanship. The children were given two chances to take the tests – one in March or April and the other in May. If a teacher got her pupils through these tests, her reputation was established as a good teacher. Needless to say, Goldie was delighted that all of her eighth graders passed the exams and equally pleased to return to District 12 in the fall of 1924 where her roster increased to 28 students and her salary increased by $5.00 per month.
Goldie taught a total of six years in one-room schoolhouses in Webster County. In addition to District 12, she also taught at District 42 where, interestingly, her young brother Clinton was a student, and where in the fall of 1931 her younger sister, Ipha Widdersheim, became the teacher after Goldie moved on to teach 7th & 8th graders in town.
Goldie later taught in Upland, Nebraska where she met and married Walter Nielsen. From 1942 until 1958 she took a break from teaching to care for their three children. She returned as a junior high teacher in Upland Public Schools in the fall of 1958 where she continued teaching until Upland consolidated its junior high and senior high students with the Minden, Nebraska school district. She retired permanently after commuting to Holstein Public Schools for two years. However, her years of belief in the importance of education to our society had rubbed off on her own children. Both Bob and Susan graduated from UNK and spent years teaching children – Bob at the high school level for 18 years and Susan at the pre-K level for many years.
REMINISCENCES
The following are the Reminiscences of Goldie (Widdersheim) Nielsen who graduate from Bladen High School in the spring of 1923 and began teaching in District 12, a one-room schoolhouse in Webster County, Nebraska in the fall of 1923:
Armed with hope and the recommendations of my teachers I began early in the spring of 1923 applying for a position as a rural teacher for the following fall.
Having taken a normal training course in high school and having passed successfully the state teacher’s examinations I could qualify for a school teaching position by attending the summer term at a teacher’s college, but first I must have a school contract.
The fact that I wasn’t sixteen until May of that year was a decided drawback in some instances, but I finally got a contract from a school about five miles from home. Because I was a beginning teacher, I could not expect as much salary as an experienced teacher, so I counted myself lucky to be offered $70 a month for a nine-month term, as most beginning teachers started at $60 or $65. The fact that my school had 23 pupils may have been a factor in my getting such a generous offer.
The schoolhouse was the usual rectangular building with an entry hall tacked on one end. There was also a fuel shed, a windmill, a cave, and the usual twin small buildings set apart some distance from the school building each equipped with a Montgomery Ward or Sears catalogue.
These small buildings were very popular during the warm days of spring and fall – the stroll to and from providing a pleasant diversion from the perusal of knowledge in the schoolroom. There was a noticeable drop off of visits to these establishments when wintery winds came or when rain came pelting down. Then, only trips were made of necessity and there was no loitering along the way. Occasionally, one of the younger ones would postpone nature’s call, alas, too long with a resulting embarrassing puddle on the floor beneath the desk. Then the culprit would sit red-faced and ashamed with eyes glued to his books, while other pupils, noticing the catastrophe would nudge each other and titter until suppressed by the teacher’s stern gaze. No need to chide the wet-seated culprit. His mortification and discomfort was punishment enough.
The schoolroom itself was equipped with the usual desks of assorted sizes as befitted a rural school of all grads 1 through 8, the teacher’s desk and chair, a recitation bench from which the pupils in turn recited at class time. Also, there were a few maps, a globe, a couple bookcases, pictures of Washington and Lincoln, and a print of either a Millet, or Rosa Bonheur painting, and blackboards across the front of the room.
Our schoolroom also had a pump organ, which furnished the accompaniment for our singing during opening exercises. Most schools had pianos by this time, but ours still had its wheezy organ.
In the center of the schoolroom stood the heating stove that was the bane of my existence during the cold weather. No patron of the district would have put up with such a dilapidated monster in his home, but it was alright for a schoolhouse.
The grates were supported by bricks as the supporting frame had burned out. With a poker, one coaxed the ashes and fine cinders through the grate into the base of the heater, although it was often necessary to reach into the stove (cold) and take out the large clinkers by hand before putting in the cobs and paper which started the fire. The ashes and clinkers were shoveled into the coal part and deposited on a pile back of the coal shed later.
From the stove, a long stovepipe extended to the chimney at the back of the room. One soon became expert in kindling the fire, manipulating the drafts – open at first to give the fire a chance to start and then partially closed to keep the heat from escaping through the stovepipe. The stove was subject to the vagaries of the weather and if one closed the drafts too soon and the wind were in the right direction, one might be rewarded with a cloud of smoke or the fire might go out altogether. On the other hand, if the drafts were left open too long the fire would be drawn up the pipe, causing it to become red hot and a potential fire hazard.
As the year wore on, the pipe gradually became filled with soot so that one morning we were rewarded by choking smoke, which necessitated opening windows and a call to the school board who came and cleaned out the offending pipe so we could have warmth and could breathe again.
Wrestling with the stove was not the only burden connected with fire making. Coal and cobs must be carried in and fires banked on wintry nights so the schoolroom would not be so icy the next morning, and there would be a bed of coals for easier starting. Pails of kindling and coal must be carried in at night, but usually the older boys were drafted for this job.
Our school board, being of economical framed of mind, did not buy the best grade of coal, preferring to buy the kind that came in boulder size and must be broken up before it could be used. Usually, I solved this problem by lifting a large chunk as far in the air as I could and letting it drop on an equally large chunk. This was a dirty job and one which warmed my disposition as well as my body, especially when a chip would glance off and hit me in the face.
There were mornings when trying to coax warmth from the heater with stiff fingers and numb toes I felt like weeping in desperation, but muttering maledictions under my breath I kept at it until a slight warmth emanating from its surface rewarded my efforts. Even so, there were mornings when the room was not comfortable until ten o’clock, although I always arrived at eight or earlier to have the room warm for the first arrivals.
Tacked onto the end of the building was a small hall or entryway where overshoes and wraps could be deposited, and in mild weather, lunch boxes. Also on a shelf was a stone jar with a spigot which served as our drinking fountain. A not too reliable windmill was on the school ground, but at times, parents would take turns bringing water to fill the jar. Each child was supposed to bring his own towel and tin cup which were to be taken home on weekends to be washed. There was one wash basin for all and I always kept the tea-kettle on the heating stove to take off the icy chill.
My roster for that first year consisted of 23 pupils. Five of these were eighth graders with the other pupils being distributed among the other grades.
The eighth graders had to pass the county examinations before being eligible for high school. Examinations were given in Arithmetic, Mental Arithmetic, Language (Grammar), Geography, History, Civics, Agriculture, Reading, Spelling, Art and Penmanship.
The children were given two chances to take the tests – one in March or April and the other in May. If a teacher got her pupils through these tests, her reputation was established as a good teacher.
The rural children were not allowed to take the tests under their own teacher, but had to go to the neighboring town where for two days under a strange teacher (and one who was not always sympathetic to these country pupils), in strange surroundings, they answered question after question. It always seemed to me to be grossly unfair. Taking final examinations was traumatic enough without having to take them in such an alien situation. The town children were not required to take these tests and had a two-day holiday while the tests were given.
There was much reviewing and coaching before hand in preparation for these tests. I remember one incident that occurred when the 8th grade pupils had gathered at my boarding place a week before the tests and I was reviewing them on some of the more difficult areas. The director was looking on with interest while I was going over some square root problems with the pupils. Suddenly he asked if I had taught them cube root. I answered that I hadn’t as there was no requirement of this according to the State Course of Study. He still though it should be taught, so the next day I found a book that had cube root problems in it, studied the method (I had never had cube root either!), and proceeded to give my pupils a short crash course in cube root.
Fortunately my pupils all passed the tests successfully – even the slow one who I had worried and worked with many hours overtime.
It was quite a task making out a class schedule for so many grades, although the 3rd and 4th grades, 5th and 6th, 7th and 8th were combined in many subjects. I know I had many 10 and 15-minute classes and even some 5-minute ones occasionally, especially when I had to help the slow ones in between classes as well as answer questions. The thought od doing such a thing today would make me shudder, but somehow I managed – how well I can only wonder. Since I had attended my grade school days in a rural school, I had an inside track on ways and means of doing things in a rural school.
I boarded and roomed that first year a mile from school at the home of the director of the school board. It was close enough that I could walk back and forth during nice weather, and during stormy weather, my landlord took me and his three daughters. I paid $20 a month for board and room.
I slept upstairs in a room whose walls were often covered with frost when I awoke in the cold dark morning. A pitcher of warm water was placed outside my door for my morning ablutions, but I didn’t tarry long over my toilet those cold wintery mornings even though I had not yet succumbed to the new bobbed hair fad and had to do my hair up.
After everyone was assembled in the large kitchen, we had morning devotions. We knelt for prayers beside the chair on which we were seated. The former teacher had briefed me on this so I knew what to expect. She had said, “It gets a little had on knees sometimes.”
The family consisted of four children. The oldest, a boy, attended high school, and the girls were all in school, the 3rd, 6th and 8th grades respectively.
The children had chores to do at home, including milking. The girls took turns in doing milking and the house work. The boy was a big overgrown fellow who was quite a braggart, but lazy and was always shirking his share of chores causing loud complaints from his sisters and constant berating and shouting from his parents.
With all his boastfulness, he was afraid of the dark and if he was sent out after dark to check on the barn doors to get a pail of water, he would always coax one of his sisters to go with him. It was usually the littlest, as the other two were not easily taken in by his wheedling. It always amused me as I didn’t think she would be much protection against an attack, but his fears were evidently based on ghostly presences, rather than earthly ones.
The father was a big pleasant looking man who could be provoked by his lazy son to excessively strong language that could be heard from the barnyard.
The mother was a coarse-faced, plodding woman with an air of resignation and a complaining voice which grated on my senses.
The girls and I got along all right both at home and at school. I always dried the dishes for the one whose turn it was to do them at night and they were grateful for my help.
I was sincerely glad the next year to find a boarding place with a lovely Bohemian family who had just built a new house with a furnace and indoor plumbing.
My father usually came and got me for the weekends on Friday nights unless his field work prevented it, but then I usually went home on Saturday. He would then drive me back on Monday mornings or, if it looked stormy, on Sunday afternoon.
I don’t remember ever having to stay over a weekend, although I know there were a couple of times when I walked the four miles home. Once it was because a snow which fell on Friday was too deep for a car to get through until the roads were broken, so I rose early Saturday morning and waded grifts nearly to my knees and got home in time for dinner, but the prospect of staying over the week gave me the will to go on.
My discipline problems at school were just the usual ones of whispering and noisiness. The children were taught to respect the teacher and I am sure would have been dealt with severely at home if they had created problems at school.
I joined them at noon in their play on the school grounds. The usual hide-and-seek, Pom-Pom Pullaway, Andi-i-over, Run Sheep Run, etc., were played. In winter Fox-and-Goose was a favorite and occasionally sleds were brought to school and we coasted down the hill in the adjoining pasture.
Sometimes during the year a teacher was supposed to hold a program which was accompanied by a basket supper or pie social to raise money for extra playground or schoolroom equipment.
Halloween or Christmas time were favorite times for these programs because more material was available for these occasions. I don’t remember which occasion was the scene for my first program. My memory of the programs I put on in my six years as a rural teacher are sort of a hazy blur since they were all so similar. The on time which stands out in my memory is the one where one of the school board members wandered back of the curtain and stepped of into an open cellarway, (someone had left the door open) and fell to the basement breaking several ribs. This did not happen at my first program.
The school programs were all similar, consisting of dialogues, drills, recitations, and songs which were practiced for weeks ahead.
Our stage was curtained by sheets strung on wires which occasionally fell down when an over zealous “curtain puller” yanked too hard. Gas lights were brought from home for the occasion and either placed on the bookcases or hung on hooks suspended from the ceiling.
There was always a good crowd at these programs, as friends and relatives from the district and the adjoining district assembled.
The children were crowded back of the curtains in nervous anticipation of their turn to perform after being admonished “to speak up so everyone can hear you.” Many forgot their lines entirely when faced by that sea of faces and staring eyes, and had to be prompted line by line, but the applause was always generous for their efforts.
This was always a harrowing experience for me. I was always too nervous to eat my evening meal and usually ended up with a headache. My stage fright was equal to the children’s until I had given my welcoming speech, but subsided as I helped with costumes, prompted, shifted scenery, and hushed the children back stage. It was an ordeal to be gotten through and forgotten as soon as possible.
Another highlight of the year was the visit of the county superintendent. She usually visited twice a year and did not signal her approach ahead of time for obvious reasons. She wanted to catch me in a natural situation.
I remember when I was attending country school, of looking at the poor lady as a sort of ogre who would gobble alive any child who was caught whispering or unable to answer questions successfully, as we had been coached to be very quiet, not to whisper, or move without permission and to study studiously while she was in the room.
Our superintendent that year was a harried little woman who slipped in during classes and sat in the back of the room. After listening to several classes recite and inspecting the work being done at the pupil’s desks she inspected my plan and record books, left a package of supplies on my desk and scurried away before I had a chance to ask her advice on problems that were troubling me.
Christmas was always a happy time at school. The prospect of a week of vacation coupled with the anticipation of the gift exchange, plus the teacher’s treat had the pupils at a high pitch and though classes ere held until recess, not much was learned that day.
I had pencils inscribed with each child’s name plus the treat sack the teacher was expected to give not only to the pupils, but to any younger children in the district under school age.
That year I had sacked the treats at home the weekend before – generous sacks of candy, nuts and an orange – and my father was going to bring them over that Friday afternoon. We had placed the sacks in a box upstairs, but unfortunately, a sever cold wave hit that week and the oranges froze, necessitating my father to stop in town to buy more oranges and replace the frozen ones in thirty sacks.
The last highlight of the year was the last day of school picnic. All the families in the district turned out with well-filled picnic baskets for the big day. The men joined the boys in a ball game after dinner and the women sat around on blankets and visited while the other children were left to their own devices.
Before the afternoon festivities were over, the mothers brought out cakes and the teacher treated everyone to ice cream. Now treating a district to ice cream was no small matter, but I had been warned there would be relatives from a neighboring district whose school had closed a week earlier.
I had ordered the ice cream from the drug store and it was packed in five-gallon freezers. Several had more than one helping of ice cream and I guess everyone had plenty. I don’t remember how many gallons were consumed, but I know that one five-gallon freezer was empty and my salary for that month was seriously depleted.
But that year was over, and by the standards of the times, it had been a successful year. My 8th graders had passed and I received a contract for the next year with a raise of $5.00 a month. I was not an experienced teacher.
The following are the Reminiscences of Goldie (Widdersheim) Nielsen who graduate from Bladen High School in the spring of 1923 and began teaching in District 12, a one-room schoolhouse in Webster County, Nebraska in the fall of 1923:
Armed with hope and the recommendations of my teachers I began early in the spring of 1923 applying for a position as a rural teacher for the following fall.
Having taken a normal training course in high school and having passed successfully the state teacher’s examinations I could qualify for a school teaching position by attending the summer term at a teacher’s college, but first I must have a school contract.
The fact that I wasn’t sixteen until May of that year was a decided drawback in some instances, but I finally got a contract from a school about five miles from home. Because I was a beginning teacher, I could not expect as much salary as an experienced teacher, so I counted myself lucky to be offered $70 a month for a nine-month term, as most beginning teachers started at $60 or $65. The fact that my school had 23 pupils may have been a factor in my getting such a generous offer.
The schoolhouse was the usual rectangular building with an entry hall tacked on one end. There was also a fuel shed, a windmill, a cave, and the usual twin small buildings set apart some distance from the school building each equipped with a Montgomery Ward or Sears catalogue.
These small buildings were very popular during the warm days of spring and fall – the stroll to and from providing a pleasant diversion from the perusal of knowledge in the schoolroom. There was a noticeable drop off of visits to these establishments when wintery winds came or when rain came pelting down. Then, only trips were made of necessity and there was no loitering along the way. Occasionally, one of the younger ones would postpone nature’s call, alas, too long with a resulting embarrassing puddle on the floor beneath the desk. Then the culprit would sit red-faced and ashamed with eyes glued to his books, while other pupils, noticing the catastrophe would nudge each other and titter until suppressed by the teacher’s stern gaze. No need to chide the wet-seated culprit. His mortification and discomfort was punishment enough.
The schoolroom itself was equipped with the usual desks of assorted sizes as befitted a rural school of all grads 1 through 8, the teacher’s desk and chair, a recitation bench from which the pupils in turn recited at class time. Also, there were a few maps, a globe, a couple bookcases, pictures of Washington and Lincoln, and a print of either a Millet, or Rosa Bonheur painting, and blackboards across the front of the room.
Our schoolroom also had a pump organ, which furnished the accompaniment for our singing during opening exercises. Most schools had pianos by this time, but ours still had its wheezy organ.
In the center of the schoolroom stood the heating stove that was the bane of my existence during the cold weather. No patron of the district would have put up with such a dilapidated monster in his home, but it was alright for a schoolhouse.
The grates were supported by bricks as the supporting frame had burned out. With a poker, one coaxed the ashes and fine cinders through the grate into the base of the heater, although it was often necessary to reach into the stove (cold) and take out the large clinkers by hand before putting in the cobs and paper which started the fire. The ashes and clinkers were shoveled into the coal part and deposited on a pile back of the coal shed later.
From the stove, a long stovepipe extended to the chimney at the back of the room. One soon became expert in kindling the fire, manipulating the drafts – open at first to give the fire a chance to start and then partially closed to keep the heat from escaping through the stovepipe. The stove was subject to the vagaries of the weather and if one closed the drafts too soon and the wind were in the right direction, one might be rewarded with a cloud of smoke or the fire might go out altogether. On the other hand, if the drafts were left open too long the fire would be drawn up the pipe, causing it to become red hot and a potential fire hazard.
As the year wore on, the pipe gradually became filled with soot so that one morning we were rewarded by choking smoke, which necessitated opening windows and a call to the school board who came and cleaned out the offending pipe so we could have warmth and could breathe again.
Wrestling with the stove was not the only burden connected with fire making. Coal and cobs must be carried in and fires banked on wintry nights so the schoolroom would not be so icy the next morning, and there would be a bed of coals for easier starting. Pails of kindling and coal must be carried in at night, but usually the older boys were drafted for this job.
Our school board, being of economical framed of mind, did not buy the best grade of coal, preferring to buy the kind that came in boulder size and must be broken up before it could be used. Usually, I solved this problem by lifting a large chunk as far in the air as I could and letting it drop on an equally large chunk. This was a dirty job and one which warmed my disposition as well as my body, especially when a chip would glance off and hit me in the face.
There were mornings when trying to coax warmth from the heater with stiff fingers and numb toes I felt like weeping in desperation, but muttering maledictions under my breath I kept at it until a slight warmth emanating from its surface rewarded my efforts. Even so, there were mornings when the room was not comfortable until ten o’clock, although I always arrived at eight or earlier to have the room warm for the first arrivals.
Tacked onto the end of the building was a small hall or entryway where overshoes and wraps could be deposited, and in mild weather, lunch boxes. Also on a shelf was a stone jar with a spigot which served as our drinking fountain. A not too reliable windmill was on the school ground, but at times, parents would take turns bringing water to fill the jar. Each child was supposed to bring his own towel and tin cup which were to be taken home on weekends to be washed. There was one wash basin for all and I always kept the tea-kettle on the heating stove to take off the icy chill.
My roster for that first year consisted of 23 pupils. Five of these were eighth graders with the other pupils being distributed among the other grades.
The eighth graders had to pass the county examinations before being eligible for high school. Examinations were given in Arithmetic, Mental Arithmetic, Language (Grammar), Geography, History, Civics, Agriculture, Reading, Spelling, Art and Penmanship.
The children were given two chances to take the tests – one in March or April and the other in May. If a teacher got her pupils through these tests, her reputation was established as a good teacher.
The rural children were not allowed to take the tests under their own teacher, but had to go to the neighboring town where for two days under a strange teacher (and one who was not always sympathetic to these country pupils), in strange surroundings, they answered question after question. It always seemed to me to be grossly unfair. Taking final examinations was traumatic enough without having to take them in such an alien situation. The town children were not required to take these tests and had a two-day holiday while the tests were given.
There was much reviewing and coaching before hand in preparation for these tests. I remember one incident that occurred when the 8th grade pupils had gathered at my boarding place a week before the tests and I was reviewing them on some of the more difficult areas. The director was looking on with interest while I was going over some square root problems with the pupils. Suddenly he asked if I had taught them cube root. I answered that I hadn’t as there was no requirement of this according to the State Course of Study. He still though it should be taught, so the next day I found a book that had cube root problems in it, studied the method (I had never had cube root either!), and proceeded to give my pupils a short crash course in cube root.
Fortunately my pupils all passed the tests successfully – even the slow one who I had worried and worked with many hours overtime.
It was quite a task making out a class schedule for so many grades, although the 3rd and 4th grades, 5th and 6th, 7th and 8th were combined in many subjects. I know I had many 10 and 15-minute classes and even some 5-minute ones occasionally, especially when I had to help the slow ones in between classes as well as answer questions. The thought od doing such a thing today would make me shudder, but somehow I managed – how well I can only wonder. Since I had attended my grade school days in a rural school, I had an inside track on ways and means of doing things in a rural school.
I boarded and roomed that first year a mile from school at the home of the director of the school board. It was close enough that I could walk back and forth during nice weather, and during stormy weather, my landlord took me and his three daughters. I paid $20 a month for board and room.
I slept upstairs in a room whose walls were often covered with frost when I awoke in the cold dark morning. A pitcher of warm water was placed outside my door for my morning ablutions, but I didn’t tarry long over my toilet those cold wintery mornings even though I had not yet succumbed to the new bobbed hair fad and had to do my hair up.
After everyone was assembled in the large kitchen, we had morning devotions. We knelt for prayers beside the chair on which we were seated. The former teacher had briefed me on this so I knew what to expect. She had said, “It gets a little had on knees sometimes.”
The family consisted of four children. The oldest, a boy, attended high school, and the girls were all in school, the 3rd, 6th and 8th grades respectively.
The children had chores to do at home, including milking. The girls took turns in doing milking and the house work. The boy was a big overgrown fellow who was quite a braggart, but lazy and was always shirking his share of chores causing loud complaints from his sisters and constant berating and shouting from his parents.
With all his boastfulness, he was afraid of the dark and if he was sent out after dark to check on the barn doors to get a pail of water, he would always coax one of his sisters to go with him. It was usually the littlest, as the other two were not easily taken in by his wheedling. It always amused me as I didn’t think she would be much protection against an attack, but his fears were evidently based on ghostly presences, rather than earthly ones.
The father was a big pleasant looking man who could be provoked by his lazy son to excessively strong language that could be heard from the barnyard.
The mother was a coarse-faced, plodding woman with an air of resignation and a complaining voice which grated on my senses.
The girls and I got along all right both at home and at school. I always dried the dishes for the one whose turn it was to do them at night and they were grateful for my help.
I was sincerely glad the next year to find a boarding place with a lovely Bohemian family who had just built a new house with a furnace and indoor plumbing.
My father usually came and got me for the weekends on Friday nights unless his field work prevented it, but then I usually went home on Saturday. He would then drive me back on Monday mornings or, if it looked stormy, on Sunday afternoon.
I don’t remember ever having to stay over a weekend, although I know there were a couple of times when I walked the four miles home. Once it was because a snow which fell on Friday was too deep for a car to get through until the roads were broken, so I rose early Saturday morning and waded grifts nearly to my knees and got home in time for dinner, but the prospect of staying over the week gave me the will to go on.
My discipline problems at school were just the usual ones of whispering and noisiness. The children were taught to respect the teacher and I am sure would have been dealt with severely at home if they had created problems at school.
I joined them at noon in their play on the school grounds. The usual hide-and-seek, Pom-Pom Pullaway, Andi-i-over, Run Sheep Run, etc., were played. In winter Fox-and-Goose was a favorite and occasionally sleds were brought to school and we coasted down the hill in the adjoining pasture.
Sometimes during the year a teacher was supposed to hold a program which was accompanied by a basket supper or pie social to raise money for extra playground or schoolroom equipment.
Halloween or Christmas time were favorite times for these programs because more material was available for these occasions. I don’t remember which occasion was the scene for my first program. My memory of the programs I put on in my six years as a rural teacher are sort of a hazy blur since they were all so similar. The on time which stands out in my memory is the one where one of the school board members wandered back of the curtain and stepped of into an open cellarway, (someone had left the door open) and fell to the basement breaking several ribs. This did not happen at my first program.
The school programs were all similar, consisting of dialogues, drills, recitations, and songs which were practiced for weeks ahead.
Our stage was curtained by sheets strung on wires which occasionally fell down when an over zealous “curtain puller” yanked too hard. Gas lights were brought from home for the occasion and either placed on the bookcases or hung on hooks suspended from the ceiling.
There was always a good crowd at these programs, as friends and relatives from the district and the adjoining district assembled.
The children were crowded back of the curtains in nervous anticipation of their turn to perform after being admonished “to speak up so everyone can hear you.” Many forgot their lines entirely when faced by that sea of faces and staring eyes, and had to be prompted line by line, but the applause was always generous for their efforts.
This was always a harrowing experience for me. I was always too nervous to eat my evening meal and usually ended up with a headache. My stage fright was equal to the children’s until I had given my welcoming speech, but subsided as I helped with costumes, prompted, shifted scenery, and hushed the children back stage. It was an ordeal to be gotten through and forgotten as soon as possible.
Another highlight of the year was the visit of the county superintendent. She usually visited twice a year and did not signal her approach ahead of time for obvious reasons. She wanted to catch me in a natural situation.
I remember when I was attending country school, of looking at the poor lady as a sort of ogre who would gobble alive any child who was caught whispering or unable to answer questions successfully, as we had been coached to be very quiet, not to whisper, or move without permission and to study studiously while she was in the room.
Our superintendent that year was a harried little woman who slipped in during classes and sat in the back of the room. After listening to several classes recite and inspecting the work being done at the pupil’s desks she inspected my plan and record books, left a package of supplies on my desk and scurried away before I had a chance to ask her advice on problems that were troubling me.
Christmas was always a happy time at school. The prospect of a week of vacation coupled with the anticipation of the gift exchange, plus the teacher’s treat had the pupils at a high pitch and though classes ere held until recess, not much was learned that day.
I had pencils inscribed with each child’s name plus the treat sack the teacher was expected to give not only to the pupils, but to any younger children in the district under school age.
That year I had sacked the treats at home the weekend before – generous sacks of candy, nuts and an orange – and my father was going to bring them over that Friday afternoon. We had placed the sacks in a box upstairs, but unfortunately, a sever cold wave hit that week and the oranges froze, necessitating my father to stop in town to buy more oranges and replace the frozen ones in thirty sacks.
The last highlight of the year was the last day of school picnic. All the families in the district turned out with well-filled picnic baskets for the big day. The men joined the boys in a ball game after dinner and the women sat around on blankets and visited while the other children were left to their own devices.
Before the afternoon festivities were over, the mothers brought out cakes and the teacher treated everyone to ice cream. Now treating a district to ice cream was no small matter, but I had been warned there would be relatives from a neighboring district whose school had closed a week earlier.
I had ordered the ice cream from the drug store and it was packed in five-gallon freezers. Several had more than one helping of ice cream and I guess everyone had plenty. I don’t remember how many gallons were consumed, but I know that one five-gallon freezer was empty and my salary for that month was seriously depleted.
But that year was over, and by the standards of the times, it had been a successful year. My 8th graders had passed and I received a contract for the next year with a raise of $5.00 a month. I was not an experienced teacher.