High School at Plevna, Kansas with Grandma and Great Grandma!

Well, there is nothing more scary in the whole world of young people than the day they leave the secure little nest of Elementary School and venture onto the high school campus.  True it is only 7 blocks away and it is the same kids you have gone to school with all your life, but none-the-less, it was a real heart stopper for me.

I did not start High School in my Beloved Nickerson, I started in Plevna, Kansas.  The entire city population was 112.  There were outlying farms, but I lived in the city proper with Grandma Haas, age 71 and Great Grandma Hatfield, age 98.  Grandma was rather crippled up from a stroke and Great Grandma took care of her.  My job was to help.

Now, I don't know if you ever lived with 2 very old ladies when you were a delicate flower of 15, but there is a lot of adjusting that needs to be done and guess who is going to do it!  First was the sleeping arrangements.  They had a bedroom with a big bed. That was theirs.  Upstairs were 2 bedrooms with beds and all, but I could not sleep up there because I would be too far away and something might happen and what if some one came in and kidnapped me?  So I slept in the downstairs living room on the couch right by the front door, which was never locked.  Ok, Grandma's!

Next I must learn to crochet.  They had a radio, a big wooden thing with a round top.  That was for listening to the stock market and futures reports at noon.  For no other reason was it ever turned on.  It goes without saying that there was no television, so crochet it should be.  With my little hook and size 10 crochet thread I very quickly learned to make a "chain".  That was good enough for me, but not the grandma's. 

After my first chain was about 10 feet long I say the wisdom of learning other stitches.  I was taught the sc (single crochet, dc (double crochet), hdc (half double crochet), tr (treble crochet), dtr (double treble crochet), and then I was on my way.  Soon I had a round crocheted thingy to which I added chains and made loops.  At the end I crocheted around the outside with green thread and that was it.  I had made my first Pineapple Doily! Great Grandma then boiled sugar and water and put the doily in there.  It was then set to dry and the ruffle shaped.  It was a work of art and my first endeavor in the fine art of needlework.

Plevna had a bank, filling station, phone company, post office, mechanic, the school, and a General Store.  Hinshaw's General Store  was the hub of the metropolis, needless to say.  When Grandma sent me to the store she sent me with a handkerchief with the money tied in the corner.  After all it was almost a full block! It was always just the right amount.  I would walk in, tell Mr. or Mrs. Hinshaw that Grandma Hatfield had sent me, hand him the hanky and wait.  He would retrieve what ever it was, untie the hanky, take the money and had me the hanky and the item.  I was then trusted to walk home with both.

There was lots of stuff in that store. Light farm  equipment like rakes, shovels, towels, a few pairs of overalls, socks, beans and crackers in a barrel, and of course groceries.  I went one time with Aunt Mabel and she bought a towel for me to do textile painting on for momma for Christmas.  It had laid on the shelf so long it had lines that never came out, but it was new and it was for momma.  As I recall Aunt Mabel helped me paint a beautiful Iris.  Another form of needlework or crafts or something.

The most important part about the Hinshaws was their grandsons!  They were my age and they were twins and I would go to school with them when school started.  Dale was very light complected, with red hair and freckles and a little on the pudgy side.  Dean was  small and wiry, and darker complected with dark brown hair, very thin.  If you met them you would never dream they were related in any way.  First lesson on twins.  Also my first childhood crush, but I won't tell you which one it was! It actually lasted way over a week into the school year.

The highlight of the summer was when momma sent 2 friends of the family to pick me up and take me back to Nickerson for a few days before school started.  They roared into town on their Triumph Motorcycles and I was in Heaven!  I loved those bikes and the thought of the 20 mile trip to Nickerson was enough to make me walk on cloud 9 for weeks after.  There is just nothing like a Triumph.  Harley's are great and I love the rumble of the motor, which I understand is patented, and I own Harley stock today, but a Triumph was the sign of the times.  It symbolized youth, and freedom, and the open road.  Ah, I digress.

Next week I could start school!  And that will be tomorrow, so see you then. Be sure that my short time at Plevna High School is not at all what one would expect.  So see you then cause you are going to learn about my roots.

And now to Mrs. Howe, fourth grade teacher, Nickerson, Kansas.

Oh, I promised you yesterday I would get to Mrs. Howe.  Maybe it was a promise more to myself than to you, but nonetheless it shall be fulfilled today.  I think I dreamed about that woman last night.  Woke up in  a cold sweat for some odd reason. Usually only do that if there is a vampire in the room.

Anyway, just picture me as a tender little child of 8 years old.  We had no Kindergarten in our small town of Nickerson, Kansas, so we started right off in first grade at age 5.  The first grade classroom was the largest and we surmised that a lot of kids went in there and never came out.  That teacher was Miss Doughno (however you spell it). So sweet and pushed us in the swing and was just the loveliest lady,

Then we went to second grade and there was Mrs. Breece. A very nice lady, but demanded we learn to spell and we must now start cursive and all kinds of stuff. She was so proud of her little charges. 

Third grade and on to Mrs. Holmes.  Ah, the woman had the smile of an angel! Skin as soft as rose petals.  She was big on hygiene.  Every morning we had to swear, under penalty of death, that we had washed our face, combed our hair, brushed our teeth and she made us hold out our hands for inspection and they had better be clean!  I loved that  woman with every fiber of my being.

And then fourth grade and I swear I break out in a cold sweat when I remember Mrs. Howe!  Mrs. Howe was the smallest of all my teachers. Also the most wrinkled, had the hardest eyes, the biggest ruler and walked on cat feet up and down the aisles between the desks.  Being the shortest kid in class I always had my desk right in the front.  Right under her hawk like stare. I did not mind that.  What kept me in mortal terror was when she started prowling the aisles when we were doing our work.  I never knew exactly where she was and was terrified to look.

Her favorite thing was to creep softly up behind me (us) and if my pencil was not moving, she turned that ruler on edge and fwacked me right on top of the head.  Ah, Sweet Jesus! That still brings stars to my eyes today.  That is the sharpest, piercing est pain in the whole world.  Try it some time on yourself. Be sure you are wearing a Depends.  I am pretty sure that qualifies today as child abuse.

Of course there was the "hold out your hand" one that was given for minor infractions, like breathing.  I could handle that as long as I held my hand palm up and the ruler was flat.  Did not like it when the ruler was on edge and my tiny little knuckles were the object of her attention.

Not everyone suffered her wrath.  She had her little pets.  These kids were luckily the prodigy of the wealthier farmers in town.  I learned very early in life that rich people could do no wrong, but if your mother was a cleaning lady you were doomed from the "git go".  Now to the highlight of the fourth grade!

Bathroom break at recess.  Enter Beth and her popcorn ball swinging loosely in a scarf.  Exit little me. Run for the playground.  Enter Mrs. Howe with Beth and a soggy popcorn ball.  Seems while I was already on the playground that popcorn ball fell in the stool.  Beth explained to Mrs. Howe that I had in a jealous rage over her having one and me not, I had grabbed it and thrown it in there. It was down hill from there.

First came the call to my mother.  Then the ruler on top of the head.  Then the principal and there were rumors he kept a rubber hose to beat you with.  I must apologize profusely to Beth, which I did and I looked her right in the eye and she flinched.  She knew the truth and so did I.

Back in those days report cards had a place on the back for "Teachers Comments" and then a place for the parent to sign.  I still remember what she wrote, "Louella does her work, but she does not play well with others."  I told momma I did not do that, but Mrs. Howe was a respected teacher.  Beth had a rich daddy.

Now, here is the best part, Karma.  Over Christmas vacation Mrs. Howe got a thorn in her large intestine.  For almost a week we did not know if she would even live.  We prayed incessantly for her both at the church and me at home.  I did not want her to die.  Just wanted her to like me.  To make a long story short, neither of the two things happened.

If there are any of Mrs. Howe's relatives still out there I would like to say to you, she was a very good teacher and I learned a lot from her tutelage.  That was a time when it was alright to know which side of the bread the butter was on.  I have long ago forgiven her, but never forgotten.

To Beth;  If I ever run across you I will give you a popcorn ball. Probably neither of us will have teeth enough to eat it, but it will be symbolic.  You probably don't even remember the incident and that is good.  I remember for both of us.

Every thing that happened inside those walls and since had made me the woman I am today.  It was a time of poverty, greed and survival.  It was a time when child abuse went on behind closed doors and when the adult in the situation was always right and the kids always suffered.  Lots of kids did without back then and I just thank God that this has all changed.

And to all the little kids at Nickerson, Kansas Elementary school, I got a lot more memories and today was fun!  I may write on some more of these memories. If you went to Nickerson back then drop me a line and we can compare notes. Tell me some of your experiences and we can light up this blog! Jerry, if you are still out there I lost all your emails you sent me way back then.  Lost your address and all. 

I sometimes have random insomnia so what I do is in my mind I walk the walk home from school to our little house. I remember the names of the people who lived in the houses. Then I remember the classmates.  They say you can never go home and they are right, but sometimes in the middle of the night I like to make a quick visit and it makes me realize that little Louella Bartholomew did indeed become a vital member of society and now can "play well with others!"