When I first started thinking about creating my own blog, I mulled many ideas for what I wanted it to be. To get people to read what you write it has to have feeling and must be something that catches the readers interests. What really led me to where I am now is the fascination that people had when I would tell them stories of growing up in small town Mid America. Some were interested because they too had grown up in small towns and others were interested because they had never known a life so simple.
But the one over-riding fascination seemed to be with the stories I would tell about growing up in Mosby and going to an old Rock School. You could see the smiles and the interest as each would listen attentively about learning in an environment that is foreign to many these days. And it is their fascination that drove me to bring back memories of a time gone by that was much simpler for us all. So today is the first article in what I hope to make a series of articles called “The Old Rock School-A Firm Foundation for a Solid Education”.
The Old Rock School and the Band of 14
It still stands in the middle of the town I grew up in, a monument to the work of the generation that built it. It’s the 2-room Rock School where my friends and I walked, or in some cases, rode the bus to each morning from 1st to 8th grade. It’s where we went to learn the 3 R’s of education Reading, Writing and ‘Rithmetic. And for me, it was where education mingled with friendships, puppy love, and scraped body parts from playing on the blacktop playground.
At times when I have been back home visiting my family I have driven by the school and wondered what it looked like on the inside…does it look the same as when I was there as a young student? Or has time, like it has done to many of our bodies, given it a worn and tired look? What would my mind’s eye see, that the physical eyes of another could not?
I fondly remember that little rock school, and I am confident the lessons that I learned in my formative years there are what made me the inquisitive and educated person I am to this day. And as I look around at the lives of many of my Mosby friends, I see the very same in all of you. You see, any school can teach what is in a book, it’s the ancillary lessons we learn while at school that really round out the complete person.
So…what would I see if I sat down in a desk just like the one that I occupied when I started 1st grade? I close my eyes even as I sit at this desk, and let my memory take over from here.
Looking around the room I see the old coat closet, where we came in each morning and took off our coats/jacket and hung them neatly on the hooks. At each end of the closet there was an opening and there were shelves where we put our lunches if we brought them. At the head of the rectangular room was the Teacher’s desk. On the left side of the room was the long blackboard where the Teacher would write the assignments for each day. The 1st Grade sat on the right side of the room while the 2nd Grade was on the left side of the room nearest to the chalkboard. Our class size was so small (and funds so limited) that each Teacher taught 2 different grade levels. The Teacher would teach one grade in a subject, then while the students worked on assignments, she would teach the other grade the same subject, different level. (I can confess now that I many times would listen to the Teacher as she taught the other class just so I could learn what the class ahead of me was learning).
Looking around the room yet again, I can see the faces of my classmates. Whenever I look back at my classmates I call us the Band of 14. We were probably the largest class to come out of Mosby for many years, and probably the most diverse. I can recall each and every name….myself, Bobby, Connie, Paul, Jack, Mona, Earnie, Doyal, Bea, Beth, Kim, Toni, Patty, Robin, Robin (Rose), Terry, Kyna, Cindy, Billy and Cathy. I know if you have used your Math skills you are probably scratching your head as to why I called us the Band of 14 when clearly you can count 20 names! Mostly because those were all the names of the classmates from 1st Grade to when we graduated in 8th Grade. No matter who moved in or out we seemed to remain at 14, other than one year we were actually 15 strong.
I smile as the memories come back so easily, mostly those memories that left indelible etchings in my mind because of their nature. I remember my 1st and 2nd grade teacher Mrs. Shannon, a gray haired lady short in stature but firm in nature. She was a strict, by-the-book, no-nonsense person who tolerated very little in the way of precocious behavior. She demanded strict attention in her class, and if you violated this code, she was quick to call you down or even call you to the front of the class. (To this day I can still picture her chasing Bobby around the room with her long ruler after he did something to upset her.) She demanded complete attention in her direction while she was teaching, and any daydreamer and ne-er do-well was quickly brought back in line. But she also had a soft side that she tried hard to not let people see and I was lucky to witness.
I remember Mrs. Usher who was quite the opposite of Mrs. Shannon in that she was a statuesque lady, with a booming voice and gentle heart. Well, gentle only if you didn’t try to cross her or show a lack of respect. (Anyone remember when Bobby called her by her given first name and got a weeks worth of cleaning the chalkboard and dusting the erasers?) I also remember her because it was her love of Social Studies/History and the way that she made it interesting in an almost storybook manner that led me to my love of History.
I remember Mrs. Graves, the Music Teacher who came only 2 days a week. (Her husband, Bill, was the History Teacher at ESHS and a character in his own right). I remember all the songs that she would teach us in preparing for the Winter and Spring Programs that were such a staple in our small little town. And then the occasional plays that she would help put on such as Johnny Appleseed and the farcical version of Romeo & Juliet that my older brother and I starred in.
But more than anything I remember my classmates.
We were a rather unique group of people, almost in a Breakfast Club sort of way.
We had our class jock in Bobby, the guy in grade school that no one would be athletically better than. Things seem to always be easy for him in Grade School, almost like he had the Owner’s Manual on the how-to-look cool bus.
We had the class clown in Paul, always the one to play a practical joke. Paul and Bobby were best buds, even though Bobby lived in town and Paul was a “bus rider”. They were partners in crime (remember the suspension) and where one was the other was surely close by. I remember Paul having to go to the hospital once when we were young because of a Heart Murmur, our first brush with physical human frailties.
We had the vocally talented Beth, who was part of a sister’s quartet dubbed the “DREAM Sisters” because of the first initials of each sisters first name. (Debbie, Rebecca, Elizabeth, Amy, Millie). While highly studious, very intelligent and talented, she like the rest of us struggled to gain acceptance, while feigning not needing it.
We had Jack, another of Bobby’s sidekicks, who always seemed to find a way to get blamed for something someone else did. Jack was always one of the bigger kids in class but never quite warmed up to the thought of being a bully.
There was Doyal and Earnie, brothers although not twins, that just seemed to be a magnet for trouble. Earnie was always in trouble for trying to emulate Paul as the class clown and never quite succeeding. Doyal was always in trouble because (rightfully so) he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder because everyone made fun of his physical struggles. For me, that is something in my past that I am disappointed in myself about. As a Father of a Special Needs child I see visions of myself as a child in those who would make fun of my own child.
Each person I can picture in my mind brought something nice and simple into my life. To all the guys, (Bobby, Jack, Paul, Earnie, Doyal, Kim or Billy)whether it was being my best friend or running mate, my biggest “foe” or first black eye, you helped shape me. Whether you were a confidant when things got rough at my home (Connie), my first love (Cathy), or my first kiss (Mona) you helped shape me. Whether you were the first to, well you know what it was and you know who you are, you helped me grow and learn.
We all learned together in a time and place that is rarely duplicated these days. Instead of calculators and computers, we had worksheets and erasable pencils. Instead of movies and the constant blur of hundreds of channels, we had our books and our imaginations. I say we have lost a bit of our imagination with the passing of our times and the ability to creatively use our minds. But then again, we were a generation of change from our parent’s time also and what we did changed the world no differently than the invention of the electronic age.
As a sad part of what is our physical nature, a few of my old classmates are no longer with us, and for that I am sad. Others we have lost track of and sometimes wonder where they are and how they are doing. It was, at one time, a small dream of mine to hold a Class Reunion at the old school, just to see where everyone is, and how they have done.
But for now, I enjoy the fact that many of my old classmates are friends with me on Facebook and chat with me occasionally so we can reminisce and trade stories.
I hope as you have read this, you have chuckled or smiled at my view of my little school. Or maybe as you read this you began to think of your days in grade school and your old classmates. And I hope your memories are as fond as mine
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