SCHOOL  by Anne Olson
 
The desk fit just under my chin, it was my first day of school and I had been allowed to
sit with my sister Isabel to ease this new experience; sister was a young lady of twelve
and while the seat and desk fit her it did not fit me. We had all been on time this first
day of school and had trouped in when the teacher rang the bell, a bell of bronze with a
black handle that teachers of those days rang lustily to garner the pupils into the little
country schoolhouses. At the time I am writing about, the schools were for the most
part placed two miles apart and were numbered by districts ours was District 32. It was
set in a shady grove of cottonwood and box elder, the door toward the south with a
porch and five steps leading up to it. The hall was a narrow room across the front of the
building with two doors at either end leading into the school room; the lower wall of the
hall was wainscot and above on the wall was a board with clothes hooks for our wraps 
each was assigned a hook or claimed one which we usually kept the entire year. At the
north end of our hall was a shelf that held the water bucket and wash basin with a pail
below for the waste water. Some times a mirror hung above the shelf. Water was
dipped out for drinking in a tin dipper. A roller towel on a wooden roller finished out the
equipment for keeping clean.
 
When every body had been seated in the school room with a minimum of noise for all
were on their best behavior on this first day of school eager faces turned to the teacher;
they saw a petite brunette with raven black hair and very dark eyes perhaps a bit ³
subdued since it was her first year of teaching. I decided she was the most beautiful girl
I had ever seen; I do not recall if there was an opening exercise or not. The next thing I 
knew a new book was placed before me, a First Grade book and the teacher opened it 
to the first page pressing it open with beautiful white hands. Teacher was a French girl,
a Miss Boudreau whose folks lived in our main shopping town. The hieroglyphics still
stay in mind for that is what they were to me, and I was completely at sea as to their .
meaning; I tried to ask my sister about the meaning but she told me we were not
supposed to whisper. The learning part that came later is dim but I did learn to read. An
amusing episode occurred which I remember; there was another Anne in the school 
and I heard Miss B asking an Anne if she had lost her hair ribbon not stopping to
ascertain if both my ribbons were in place I raised my hand hastily to indicate I might be
in need of a ribbon. After Miss B brought the ribbon to the other Anne she came to me
to see what I wanted since I had raised my hand. I was completely embarrassed and
had absolutely nothing to say and felt I was getting too much attention; teacher finally
gave up on me. It took me some time over the years to be a bit slower to express
myself, this at the urging of my family with admonishments to remember to keep quiet s
until some one had finished speaking. When I was eight or nine, a loved aunt who lived
in Wisconsin sent my sisters and me small booklets at Christmas; they were beautifully
illustrated and contained inspirational verse. Mine had a poem called "Take Time to 
Think" and I wondered if the family had mentioned my too ready tongue. Dear Aunt
Anne had no such thoughts and the poem has been an inspiration to me through the
years; I still have the cherished book among my dear possessions.
 
Miss B did not last more than two or three months as a teacher, she evidently found the
work too demanding and resigned. Our next teacher was a girl from the nearby town
and a neighbor to Miss B. She was not a beauty, reddish hair and freckles with features
that were irregular but with a zest for life that brought a response; Miss McEntaffer was
a teacher you liked, she understood you.
 
Winter brought snow and lots of it in this eastern part of Nebraska. A favorite game with
the older children then was called Fox and Geese, a large circle was formed in the
snow, a smaller circle within and paths leading to the center of the circle like the spokes
of a wheel; one player was the fox out to catch the geese. A rough game was called
Pump pump pull away, a row of children clasped hands and the leader, the strongest
tried to snap the line by dislodging the end child thus cracking the whip as it was called. 
It was not a game for the small youngsters; many were hurt playing it. Pussy Wants a
Corner was to the liking of the little ones, here each grabbed a tree and there was
plenty of cottonwoods and box elder to go around, and Pussy who was "IT" tried to lure 
the players from their corner and take the tree of anyone who got too far from his tree;
this was a gentle game. As we grew older plays were produced in the coal shed, and 
one where the good guy was secreted in a barrel did not reach a climax as the good guy could not push the necessary paper through the bung hole because she became too cramped and had to rise out of the barrel before her cue. The Villain in this case held the mortgage to property as was the usual plot, a plot all too realist for those times. So that particular melodrama fizzled much to the audience's disgust; the audience being the younger children and the older boys who thought the whole proceedings was a waste of time, to begin with. One of the chores we especially liked was to go after the drinking water if we were chosen with a partner that we were fond of; we took the pail and went to the nearby farm, whose land touched the school house plot, this farmer, Chris Fey, having donated the latter. We liked tocross the style at the backyard fence and go through the small  pasture to the well, it was in the house yard, a yard lush with bluegrass and neat board walks that were always shining-clean as was the well platform, and the water was cold and sweet. We aimed to get the pail full of water back to school without spilling too Miss M was a small person an energetic nervous type who put forth effort to accomplish her goal of being a good teacher. We learned- and parents and school board were pleased with that term of school.
A later teacher was a relaxed auburn haired girl from a town to the east of us and far
enough away so she had to take the train on Monday mornings to the small town of
Nacora where she was met by the Feys, who furnished the water for the school, here
she boarded for the week. We always called her Caddie when she was not within
hearing but in the school room she was "teacher" or Miss McGlashen. We liked her
though she was probably not as efficient as some teachers we had, and yet since we 
admired her, we tried to please her by having our lessons prepared and, advanced
more than might be expected. One time she was going to come home with us to spend the night; at the time my sisters and I were driving to school and putting our horse Topsy in a small barn that had been built at the south entrance to the school yard. We hitched up Topsy in short order as Caddie  was a big help and got into the small buggy and if I recall correctly we did mention to Caddie that Topsy was tricky and would try to cast her tail over the lines and if she succeeded there was no holding her until one got it released. Well we started down the road with Caddie driving and had not gone far went Topsy captured the line and we sailed down the road at break neck speed, our hats going as far north as the elastic would permit while we sped south. Topsy had a nice down grade and while we raced along Caddie cautioning us 'to sit tight girls, don't under any circumstances jump' this she kept repeating in a calm voice. I for one had no intention of jumping however her
matter of factness helped us from becoming panicky. When we arrived at the foot of the
hill to the south Topsy began to wonder if she had been making a fool of herself - that
is, if horses philosophize and either by intent on her part or skill on Caddie's part the
line was released. Later we learned we had brought an incident to the men working in
the fields which they watched with anxiety at first and then humor when they realized
we were going to stay with the ship and that Topsy would slow down for a hill. Anyway
it was a ride I shall never forget. Caddie taught our school for two years.
 
Another teacher, a Lillian Ream is chiefly remembered by the cap she wore, an angora,
white, which set off her good looks, she had black hair and blue eyes and a very fair
skin. The angora cap set off a fad among the girls and we got angora bonnets, most of
Then there was Miss Murphy, a spinster who was very conscientious and liked things
quiet and I fear we were noisy some times for questionable reasons. Miss Clark did not
leave too deep an impression on me for the reason I guess she dispensed with the
seventh grade arithmetic recitation period and devoted that time to coaching the eighth
grade girl who would have to take the Eighth grade Exam, a County examination which no
would assure her entrance into the near town High School; I was in the seventh grade
with one other girl.
 
My parents and older sister decided it would be wise for me to go to the school in our
town the next fall, thus I would have a better chance to pass the County examinations
which would assure my entrance into High School. So in the fall a place to room and
board was found for me, this with a woman up in years. That September I enrolled in
the eighth grade under Miss Saxon's tutelage, a fine teacher and an understanding
person. Her home was in Pennsylvania. This was quite a change for me and I was shy.
I would be taken to the depot in our small town of Nacora where I would get my ticket
for Emerson paying 11 cents for the five and a half mile ride; my brother usually took
me and as I looked intently southward when we got on the road, he never, but never, An
seemed to notice the tears I shed at leaving home for a whole week! The town of Nacora is gone now, the bank, store, blacksmith shop, elevator, depot and the saloon
that had been the first building to start the town.