I started my quest for higher education at
Wilson Public School in September 1942.
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At this time in history the world believed
that Germany trying to dominate Europe, Japan
trying to dominate Asia, and the Italians
trying to dominate Africa was a crisis of
gigantic proportions. Little did anyone know
that all the world problems would pale to
insignificance by the events that were to
unfold that fateful day in September 1942.
This transition from mama's baby boy to a
learned scholar was much more traumatic than
what I experienced when I joined the Marines.
Things started off on a good foot with my
sister and I getting on the bus that would
transport us over the horizon. My sister’s
assigned task of getting me to school was
something like Eisenhower’s task of getting
across the English Channel. This was her
senior year and she was soon to envy the
simple problem of invading Europe. Initially,
she thought this would be an easy “walk in
the sun”; little did she know this was just
the eye of the storm. Getting the bus from
the house to school worked as planned. Next
obsticle she faced upon arriving at Wilson
Public School was to simply go down into
the basement and place me in the competent
hands of the First grade teacher and then
retreat to the upper levels where the esteemed
seniors were located. Wrong! To say that
this simple task was rather traumatic would
be like calling World War II a domestic dispute.
At this point flaws started to appear in
the plan. The obvious fact that I had never
been separated from my mother and sister
failed to be incorporated into the operating
plan. As Robbie Burns said “Best laid plans
of men and mice”, and my mother and sister
“often go asunder”. When Frances attempted
the custody transfer to the first grade teacher
Mrs. Forrester, things very rapidly collapsed
inward on itself. Contrary to the plan, which
was not discussed with me, separation from
France was destined for failure since it
was an alien concept beyond my comprehension.
In the ensuing battle a lot of gnashing,
wailing, wrestling, pushing, shoving and
general pandimonium resulted with me being
trapped in the dungeon with the evil dragon.
How Frances escaped to the upper levels of
the school is beyond my memory. This activity
was like dropping a bag of marbles on a tile
floor. When all the marbles stopped bouncing,
I looked around and Frances was gone. As
I recalled there was a lot of crying going
on during the first day. With considerable
scuffling and yelling the teacher finally
got me to stay in my assigned chair. I had
resigned myself to a life without my sister.
I figured this new adventure might not be
all that bad. However, the calm is just before
the storm.
The downward spiral had just started. Another
storm was brewing on the horizon. With the
finesse of a First Sergeant, the teacher
instructed everyone to get out their pencils
and pads and print their name. As all the
other students set out to accomplish the
assigned task, I sat with a dumb look on
my face. I was struck with the sudden realization
that mother had printed my name on my lunch
sack for such eventuality. As plans go, this
one was also flawed since the teacher had
decided that all lunch sacks should be collected
and placed in the cloakroom. This little
action by the teacher made my first assignment
most difficult, as I had no idea how to read
or write. Again the focus was on me, as the
teacher couldn’t seem to grasp the concept
that I was an illiterate. Like all things,
this passed after she admonished me for being
stupid.
My initiation into the first grade did not
do much to endear me to my contempories during
the recess period. As I had been the focus
all morning, it seemed like everyone had
some opinion about my stupidity and being
a mammas boy. Several altercations developed
that resulted in shoving and punching of
my body. Again the teacher somehow figured
that I was the instigator and admonished
me for not getting along with my fellow man.
I never liked recess period after this. A
vivid memory exists about a young lad named
"Rat" that was in the third grade.
For some reason he tended to believe that
I was a sissy. I am sure that the poor lad
was not named Rat by his mother, but it was
generally accepted as correct by first graders.
All of this tended to place the focus on
me during my first experience in the cold
cruel world of elementary education
Things calmed down after recess
and I started
pursuing a higher education. However,
the
day was not over. At lunch I again
became
the focal point. A young lad thought
that
taking my lunch ticket and refusing
to return
it would be a good joke. After due
consideration
the solution seemed obvious, take
my ticket
back and tear the young lads ticket
in half.
I suppose that more thought should
have been
given to this problem, since my
solution
rather displeased the teacher. I
was yanked
and shoved behind the door in the
cloakroom
where a very large spider considered
this
to be his home. Needless to say,
my attack
on the spider caused more concern
for the
teacher and more admonishment for
me.
Finally, the first day of Armageddon was
drawing to a close. Frances had instructed
me to go to Bus Number 3 at the end of school.
One obvious problem with this plan was that
I did not know how to count. Thankfully,
part of the plan was for Frances seek me
out and get me home to mother at the end
of a most disturbing day. In these days schools
had only 11 grades, which made Frances only
15 years old when given this task. I am not
sure who had a worse day.
A lot of my problem at the time
was that
I was a mammas boy. I had never
been separated
from my mother until this fateful
day. I
always had Mama or Frances around
me. Of
course when mother would leave Frances
would
tell me that she would not return.
Things ultimately settled down and I adapted
to the daily routines of being a first grader.
I do remember that Mrs Forrester never liked
me after the Battle of Custody Transfer.
Living in a settlement of Germans created
another blib in my ability to coexist with
my fellow class mates. During World War II
being German was not popular and liking them
was just about as bad. Germans were large
landowners, making them acceptable by the
adult population, but not among the children.
I am sure that the adults showed the world
one face and taught the children another
value at home. Economics make strange bed
fellow, but it doesn't mean that you like
them. German children would attend the Lutheran
School in Wilson, but would ride the same
school bus as the public did. I would associate
with them on the school bus which was not
acceptable by others. Since several of my
friends were German, I got the reputation
of being a Kraut lover. Several discussions
and disagreements resulted during the school
day, causing concern for Mrs Forrester. I
assume that she did not like me in general
or she did not like Germans or both, because
the altercations were always my fault. This
obstacle to growing up was also overcome
and I moved on to other things. As remembered,
Wilson Public School was crap. I think that
my experience with educators in the first
grade scarred me on being able to understand
why cant teacher learn how to teach.
I still remember some good things at Wilson
Public School. The janitor and our bus driver,
Mr Tapp, would put coins in the peanut machine.
It took a penny to get a handful of peanuts
with the tempting lure of getting a nickel
or a dime as a prize. As the war progressed
children were encouraged to collect scrap
iron and rubber and buy War Bond. There were
posters around the school asking students
help our soldiers destroy the Axis. Students
could buy a 10 cent stamp and paste it in
a book like the one below. When you got $18.50
a War Bond would be issued in your name.
I kept my bond until it matured in 1973.
I would walk along the road and pickup cigarette
packages and chewing gum wrappers and peel
off the tin foil, make it into a ball, and
take it to school. That was my effort to
destroy the Axis.
I attended school at Wilson Public
School
through the second grade. For the
love of
me I cant remember anything of significance
that occurred. There was a teacher named Mrs
Cobb,
who I liked. She was related to
daddy some
how.
Shortly after starting the third
grade, mother
pulled me out and we moved to Lubbock.
I
dont think I really missed anything
by moving.
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