1947, my first year of school started a week or so after Labor Day. I was as green as any little country bumpkin that ever entered the hallowed walls of
A. D. Kelly School in Wallace, Alabama. Everybody refered to our school as "Wallace". I still call it Wallace.
1947 was the last year that Wallace had all twelve grades. Economics dictated change. Fall of 1948 we changed to A. D. Kelly Jr. High. We were a "feeder" school for W. S. Neal, the big county school in East Brewton. Wallace tenth thru twelfth grades entered Neal along with North Brewton, Damascus and Henley Roberts. Flomaton got McCall. Atmore got Huxford & McCullough. Education in Escambia County was ramping up. WWII had just ended. GI's were using our school at night to finish what was interupted or take a shot for a better life. They were marrying sweethearts and babies were being born in droves. Change was inevitable.
I didn't understand that at the time but, I was excited to be a part of all that excitement.
My first grade class had 43 students. Mrs. Marble Currie took us under her instruction and formed us into a functioning unit. My Mama was expecting a new baby. One just walking, one just several years younger than me. Mama sent me to my first day of school with our neighbor Mrs. Clara Dawson. Mrs. Clara being first cousin to Mama, she was our across the woods neighbor and enrolling her own baby boy into first grade, she took responsibility for getting Gerald and I enrolled and situated. That was how folks stood in the gap for each other back in those days.........Mama wasn't being neglectful of me, she needed help. Mrs. Clara helped.
She saw a need, she filled a need.
Mama didn't have to ask.
We were blessed to have family, friends and neighbors that worked for the greater good.
In those days, no teachers aide was assigned, no homeroom mothers came to volunteer, no custodian cleaned behind us.
Mrs. Currie very rarely had to use her paddle or ruler to punish us. She would take one of us unruly students into the cloak room to talk privately and we returned red faced and restored.
We welcomed our parents for our Christmas party and hoped to have them notice our art work hanging above the blackboard.
Mrs. Currie had taught us art with having us color Santa Claus in his red suit and black boots. We colored Christmas trees green and ornaments of every color in our box of crayons. That Christmas was the most impressive of my life. I learned about Jesus and the first Christmas in my sunday school class, but, because of Mrs. Currie reading the Bible story of the birth ofJesus, I understood the meaning of Christmas. Mrs Currie said it I believed it. We learned to sing, Joy To The World and Silent Night because Mrs. Currie helped us be part of the Christmas celebration that Wallace school presented in the auditorium for all classes and parents.
What a great time we had with the entire half day devoted to our play, our party and leaving for Christmas break with the knowledge that when we returned after the New Year we would have more things to learn that we had never been exposed to.
We were assigned in groups of four to sweep the floors, dust the chalk erasers and refill the coal bucket when the weather called for usage.
We listened with rapt attention if our Principal, Mr. B.G. Tew came into our classroom unannounced. Mr. Tew was a big deal. He dressed in a coat and tie with a white shirt. Mr. Tew looked the part of his important position. Mrs, Currie let us know exactly who he was and how we should acknowledge him.
His son Bryant was our classmate and was under the same rules of expectation as we were.
Bryant never got special attention, he was part of our class.
We learned to raise our hand before speaking, march/walk in line, color inside the lines and keep our hands out of the beautiful little fishpond underneath that big wall of windows at the side of the classroom.
Yes, Mrs. Currie had created a small garden and a goldfish pond on top of a table for us to look and learn from. I loved watching those fish swimming about in circles, seeing the tiny snails creeping along the rocked walls. In the spring we put in globs of frogs eggs. They grew into tadpoles, then we watched them loose their tails to become frogs. We had a field trip to put those little loud croakers out to a local pond.
We learned to identify and repeat our ABC's, We learned to string those letters together and read that big old Alice & Jerry book that sat on an easel at the front of the room.
We learned to identify our numbers and count to 10, then 20 and eventually on to 100.
Glory be, I could count and read my name.
I learned to print my name. I held that big old fat red pencil with Coca Cola printed down the side. Coca Cola gifted us with a packet of two pencils and a ruler.
Drink Coca Cola. I did just that when I owned a nickel.
I loved looking at those upper and lower case letters Aa, Bb, Cc............
Numbers were posted up there also, 1.2.3.4..............
Above the blackboard, not "chalkboard", blackboard. It was black with a tray for holding chalk and erasers. Way up on the walls above it all hung a picture of George Washington, the father of our country.
For some unknown reason that picture of President George Washington looking down at us made me feel like we should act nice. He looked like an important Grandpa.
At the side of that blackboard stood the American flag which we crossed our hearts to pledge Allegiance to everyday, followed by the Lords Prayer.
We repeated the blessing of "God Is Good, God Is Great" before we lined up to walk to the lunchroom to get a plate of good nutritious food and a wax coated carton of milk to bring back to sit and eat at our desks.
Mrs. Currie corrected us, taught us to care for our appearance--myself being born rumpled, sash hanging, untied laces, scabby knees, chewed collars and hair one sided plaited/one side flying, she had her work cut out on me. I thrived under her tutorship. I lOVED Mrs. Currie. My Mama LOVED Mrs. Currie. Daddy thought Mrs. Currie was a miracle worker because she scolded me about wasting my Blue Horse writing paper.
I thought if I used enough packets and saved the coupons from the wrappers and got Mama to help me I could send off for a cute Beanie cap with that Blue Horse stitched on the front. Never happened. Saving 25,000 points for a bicycle was beyone any hope for me. I never knew anyone that rich enough to spend money on writing paper.
Mrs. Currie was right there on the playground for our recess both in the morning and afternoon.
She taught us to play all kinds of games that while fun, they taught us to share and understand we could win and lose without causing harm to our self esteem. No trophys were ever given out to winners or loosers. What we did get was the chance to participate in play.
We learned a pecking order. It may have seemed like what some today consider bullying. We did see some bullying, but that was brought under control by Mrs. Currie. The pecking order I'm talking about here is simply the way life itself works. Some make their place at the front of the line, some allow themselves to be placed at the end of the line.
I think I may have had experiences of both ends of the line as I simply chose to be there.
Play was considered very important in those days. We got natural exercise, fresh air and sunshine.
We made lifelong friends that first grade year.
We learned things at school that we brought home to share with our parents.
Outside our first year of life, first grade was the most intense learning period of our lives.
1947-1948 was probably the most important time of my life.
Today I listen to the news now and see all the struggle people have just getting their kids ready for school, I have to give thanks that my parents didn't have to depend on, "Cram The Van", "Free Back Packs", "Free Haircuts" for back to school. Don't let anyone feel less than. All should feel equal.
Political correctness has taken away the freedom of choice to get out, work for yourselves and take care of our own. What worries me is how people are being told that they are incapiable of taking care of themselves and raising their children.
Big difference between.
THEN & NOW.
