As a lad, every now and again I’d spend a day or two (or three) attending my fathers old, one-room school. All 22 by 26 feet of classroom, and eight grades in attendance! Same one his siblings attended, where he started at 4-years old! Holding his three year older brothers hand for the long walk there, winter and summer. I’m bettin’ that pleased both of ‘em no end? Musta been like old-timey “preschool”?
An older lady taught school there many (many) years. Miz. Layton was so old, she’d taught my grandfather his last year of school!
Called South Branch School, the building still stands alongside Pine Mill Road, near Crooked Creek (pron. “crick”), which meanders to the Delaware in nearby Equinunk.
My school visits there weren’t planned, they just happened? My folks would visit “up home”, as my grandparents farm was called. We’d get snowed in over the weekend, then suddenly it was a “school day”. Not planned, but I often think maybe my (young) parents enjoyed playin’ hooky from their jobs? (since it occurred with some regularity).
Alas, to keep my “attendance” in school up, they’d send me down there. I say “down there”, since the schoolhouse was three miles down over the mountain (and yes, it seemed like uphill both ways). This was not necessarily what I wanted. Hey! I preferred “hooky” as much as those young adults (my parents) did?
My youngest uncle, was just three years my elder (like my dad and his brother). So on these “snowed in” occasions, I tagged along to school with him. Luckily, there were woods, creeks and ledges to explore along the way (it was possible to be late, goin’ an’ comin’).
Anyway, at the end of the day, Miz. Layton, would write a note for me. Vouching to the “authorities” (school attendance record keepers) back in New Jersey that I had indeed, attended school on the specified day(s). This was important, because I was particularly adept at missing school (wherever I was sent).
Several years notes had been sent home by those “authorities” informing my parents that if I missed another (insert number) of days in school, I’d “flunk” the year and have to repeat it (they did that back then!). Those authorities (eventually) learned to mail those notes home, instead of sendin’ ‘em home with me (or I might Still be going to grade school?).
There was a great deal of learnin’ done in that little schoolhouse (I’m pretty sure?).
But mostly we looked forward to recess! With the creek and surrounding woods to explore (hey! we were learnin’!) and all kinds of games to be played. Like red rover come over, haley-haley over, hide an’ seek, stickball, tag, etc.
For the boys, there was always cowboys and indians (or cops and robbers). Where we got to run around hidin’ and shootin’ at each other! There was great drama in knowing how to “fall” just right, when you were “blasted” by the good guys. I’m wonderin’..., do kids nowadays play “terrorists and Americans”? (they should be).
For Christmas one year, several of us had gotten new “six-guns” as gifts! (cap pistols, remember those?). The ones that used long rolls of paper caps filled with gunpowder. They made a satisfyingly loud, smoky “Bang!” when you pulled the trigger.
Then came a day that stands out in infamy! (not Dec.7th).
After recess, somehow we cajoled the teacher (begged and pleaded, as only young boys can). Convincing her to let us keep our guns on our hips, After recess (try that nowadays, kids). It was great! I had a shiny new pair of Roy Rogers pistols I was wont to part with, even momentarily.
Later, I was strolling casually up an’ down the aisles, passing out papers. Suddenly (all by itself) my cap pistol went off..., BANG!! .
Several simultaneous, loud, echoing shrieks, “Eeeeek!!” escaped from nearby girls (mostly). Then..., dead silence reigned (except for the “snap” of Miz. Laytons’ head jerking up!). Scowling across the room, she gasped, “Who Did That!?!”
I stood, frozen in place. A whisp of smoke rising from my still holstered pistol told the tale.
To this day, I’m not sure whether it’d been accidentally “cocked” on my holster, caught on my pants (or somehow triggered by a prankster?). All the guns were summarily confiscated! The “shine” had suddenly gone off them anyway.
Two notes were sent home that day! One testifying to my attendance. The other banning attendance of all guns in the future.
I Don’t Know About You..., I guess guns in school were a bad idea back then? (just like today).
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium, often found three stools down, where he may be ignored, accosted or contacted. Also found at: wayneindependent.com/cal Or At: CalTeeple@g-mail.com.
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As a lad, every now and again I’d spend a day or two (or three) attending my fathers old, one-room school. All 22 by 26 feet of classroom, and eight grades in attendance! Same one his siblings attended, where he started at 4-years old! Holding his three year older brothers hand for the long walk there, winter and summer. I’m bettin’ that pleased both of ‘em no end? Musta been like old-timey “preschool”?
An older lady taught school there many (many) years. Miz. Layton was so old, she’d taught my grandfather his last year of school!
Called South Branch School, the building still stands alongside Pine Mill Road, near Crooked Creek (pron. “crick”), which meanders to the Delaware in nearby Equinunk.
My school visits there weren’t planned, they just happened? My folks would visit “up home”, as my grandparents farm was called. We’d get snowed in over the weekend, then suddenly it was a “school day”. Not planned, but I often think maybe my (young) parents enjoyed playin’ hooky from their jobs? (since it occurred with some regularity).
Alas, to keep my “attendance” in school up, they’d send me down there. I say “down there”, since the schoolhouse was three miles down over the mountain (and yes, it seemed like uphill both ways). This was not necessarily what I wanted. Hey! I preferred “hooky” as much as those young adults (my parents) did?
My youngest uncle, was just three years my elder (like my dad and his brother). So on these “snowed in” occasions, I tagged along to school with him. Luckily, there were woods, creeks and ledges to explore along the way (it was possible to be late, goin’ an’ comin’).
Anyway, at the end of the day, Miz. Layton, would write a note for me. Vouching to the “authorities” (school attendance record keepers) back in New Jersey that I had indeed, attended school on the specified day(s). This was important, because I was particularly adept at missing school (wherever I was sent).
Several years notes had been sent home by those “authorities” informing my parents that if I missed another (insert number) of days in school, I’d “flunk” the year and have to repeat it (they did that back then!). Those authorities (eventually) learned to mail those notes home, instead of sendin’ ‘em home with me (or I might Still be going to grade school?).
There was a great deal of learnin’ done in that little schoolhouse (I’m pretty sure?).
But mostly we looked forward to recess! With the creek and surrounding woods to explore (hey! we were learnin’!) and all kinds of games to be played. Like red rover come over, haley-haley over, hide an’ seek, stickball, tag, etc.
For the boys, there was always cowboys and indians (or cops and robbers). Where we got to run around hidin’ and shootin’ at each other! There was great drama in knowing how to “fall” just right, when you were “blasted” by the good guys. I’m wonderin’..., do kids nowadays play “terrorists and Americans”? (they should be).
For Christmas one year, several of us had gotten new “six-guns” as gifts! (cap pistols, remember those?). The ones that used long rolls of paper caps filled with gunpowder. They made a satisfyingly loud, smoky “Bang!” when you pulled the trigger.
Then came a day that stands out in infamy! (not Dec.7th).
After recess, somehow we cajoled the teacher (begged and pleaded, as only young boys can). Convincing her to let us keep our guns on our hips, After recess (try that nowadays, kids). It was great! I had a shiny new pair of Roy Rogers pistols I was wont to part with, even momentarily.
Later, I was strolling casually up an’ down the aisles, passing out papers. Suddenly (all by itself) my cap pistol went off..., BANG!! .
Several simultaneous, loud, echoing shrieks, “Eeeeek!!” escaped from nearby girls (mostly). Then..., dead silence reigned (except for the “snap” of Miz. Laytons’ head jerking up!). Scowling across the room, she gasped, “Who Did That!?!”
I stood, frozen in place. A whisp of smoke rising from my still holstered pistol told the tale.
To this day, I’m not sure whether it’d been accidentally “cocked” on my holster, caught on my pants (or somehow triggered by a prankster?). All the guns were summarily confiscated! The “shine” had suddenly gone off them anyway.
Two notes were sent home that day! One testifying to my attendance. The other banning attendance of all guns in the future.
I Don’t Know About You..., I guess guns in school were a bad idea back then? (just like today).
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium, often found three stools down, where he may be ignored, accosted or contacted. Also found at: wayneindependent.com/cal Or At: CalTeeple@g-mail.com.
