It was an exciting time to be alive. I was ten years old and in the fifth grade. The year was 1899. I loved school and I loved learning. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance of going a full term in school. My mother was ill a great deal of the time. In those days we children all went home for lunch. Invariably, I was the chosen one to stay home to care for Mother, do the housework ‘ and the cooking. Additionally, I took care of the little ones. My older brothers who ‘needed’ an education often found a reason for me to do their chores as well. Mother truly believed that girls did not need a formal education. I wanted an education in the worst way. It was just a few years until the turn of the century and I so desired to learn all I could. Our teachers had taught us the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic as we sat in our Little Red School House. I wanted to know more. Each row represented a grade unless there was more children than one row could handle.
I can recall all of my teacher’s names, two, however, stand out: JB. Stuart and Rufus Leigh. Mr. Stuart taught us the deaf and dumb language using our fingers. It is now called sign language and is considered a Second Language. I can still remember most of it and with a little practice I can still go through the motions. We used to ‘sign’ a song about Noah loading the Ark with the Animals, the Hypo, and the Bumble Bee. We loved having our fingers do the ‘talking’ for Rufus Leigh asked all the students in our class to donate a dime to help pay for a basketball. Basketball had just been invented by a Canadian teacher (James Naismith in 1891) as a game which could be played indoors during the long winter months. It was also a game which could be played outdoors weather permitting. We youngsters were so excited. What an imagination for a game. All of us worked hard to earn our precious dimes. As soon as we had turned them in Mr. Leigh put in the rest of the money. Soon it was on its way to us. We were quite thrilled to have the ball and surely proud to have the ball in our room. Our rims for the game were the rims of peach baskets. One Sunday we ran out of something we could do. The only thing we could think of was that ball which was locked up in the teacher’s desk. It was burning in our brains so much that we would think of nothing else. We didn’t have the key so Myrtle Jennings looked up her father. He had a bunch of keys in his pocket and with a little persuasion he loaned them to us. We all took turns at trying each key in the lock. Even Mr. Jennings took a turn. As each key was tried, and didn’t open the lock we began to get very discouraged. We kept on trying each key one by one. Soon it was my second turn. I really concentrated, my hands were quivering, and with a little prayer I put the key in and lo and behold the lock popped open. With a whoop and a holler we couldn’t wait to get our hands on that ball and out of Mr. Leigh’s desk. Well, you can imagine the fun we had on that long Sunday evening.
But it didn’t turn out so funny on my part. Monday morning all those kids that enjoyed the game were late on purpose (I have always thought) except myself. And did I ever get a going over. All the blame was placed on me because the key just happened to turn when I got hold of it. It wasn’t my fault that it didn’t turn with them or Mr. Jennings. Nothing ever came of it but I surely learned my lesson to leave the other fellows desk and keys alone. But we thought the ball belonged to us and why not play with it? To this day I have wondered if it was getting the ball without permission? Or just the fact that we found a way to open Mr. Leigh’s desk that was the problem. Shortly after my 11th birthday in the year 1900 and, true to what my mother believed about girls and education, the 5th grade proved to be the end of my formal education. AND SO THAT IS THAT.