Grand Forks, N.D.
Feb. 1, 1999
Dear classmates and friends,
Recently I went back to work part-time for the Grand Forks Herald where the first story I wrote was about the opening of the new South Middle School, built to replace one of the schools we lost in the great flood of 1997. The new South is a marvelous place, with wings for each of the three grades that will attend classes there, plus a huge gym, a spacious and high-ceilinged library and an art room with enough natural light for a dozen budding Picassos. Even the life skills room (we used to call it home ec) was a marvel, with a design and equipment to put Julia Child to shame.
The kids were giddy with excitement on their first day of classes there and the teachers and other adult staff seemed pretty tickled, too. For over a year they had gone to school in temporary classrooms in a local church. Some of us who went to school in Eureka in the mid-60s also attended classes in church temporarily while Eureka was building a new elementary school. And observing the kids during their first day at South reminded me of the day in fifth grade when we picked up our books from our temporary classrooms in the old Eureka High School gym to march down the tunnel to our brand new school.
That was a thrilling day for me. The new school seemed so big and wonderful. Blackboards at the front AND the back of the classroom! Wow! And remember those nifty bulletin boards that slid down in front of the coat closet? We even had our own gym in the new multi-purpose room. What extravagance. My first four years of education had been at Detmold No. 3 country school 11 miles northeast of Eureka and it didn’t even have indoor plumbing much less a gymnasium or life skills laboratory. We got our daily exercise when teacher had us push aside our desks and led us in morning jumping jacks and knee bends, and of course at recess when we played Fox and Goose in the snow or Pom-pom-pullaway. Our only life skills learning was cleaning the blackboards and sweeping the floor and the other daily chores we shared to keep our school clean.
Our teachers prepared lessons for eight grades of students and any "extras" we got, like music, art, physical education or drama. They enriched our lives by reading to us from classics like "Uncle Tom’s Cabin" and "The Yearling." They directed our Christmas programs and helped us plan our Halloween parties. They taught us citizenship by leading us in the Pledge of Allegiance every morning as we raised the flag in front of our school. Sometimes they even joined our games at recess or taught us new ones. They settled our arguments, gave us First Aid when we got hurt and made us behave when we got out of line. They could also be very loving and generous. The only Barbie doll I ever owned was a Christmas gift from my second-grade teacher, Miss Puhlman. When I entered first grade Detmold No. 3 had 16 students in eight grades and my only classmate was Duane Dohn. Teacher called each class forward in turn to go over its lessons and the first subject of the day was reading followed by math, English, social studies and science. When the teacher was working with the other grades we worked at our desks on our other assignments or practiced our penmanship in those stupid Palmer books. When we had extra time teacher let us check out books from the "library" – which was two shelves of books in the corner. We got a new batch of books every six weeks.
We brought our own food to school in a black metal dinner pail and our own water in a jar or Thermos. The only hot lunch we ever got was when Mom wrapped wieners in foil and the teacher let us put them on the oil heater in the middle of the room. I remember winter days that were so cold we wore our coats all day. One day we all crowded around the heater for a couple of hours before the teacher threw in the towel and sent us all home. The only bit of technology we had in those days was a telephone. I still remember the look on our teacher’s face the day one of our parents called with the news that Kennedy had been assassinated.
By far the biggest hardship of country school was using the outhouse. It was disgusting and smelly and I would only go there when absolutely necessary. It’s good I only went to country school for four years or I might have done permanent injury to myself. Which brings me to something my sister sent me. It’s titled "On Swelled Heads and Outhouses." It says: "There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness.
Confidence is when you radiate success.
Cockiness is when you tell everyone about it.
Confidence is knowing you can rebound from your mistakes.
Cockiness is assuming you never make any.
"Confidence is being self-reliant, self-assured, selfless.
Cockiness is being self-righteous, self-satisfied, selfish.
Beware. Success can giveanyone a swelled head. "So if you’ve gotten a bit cocky about how far you’ve come in this world, here’s a humbling thought to remember: You’re still only a generation removed from the outhouse." And in my case, not even that far removed.
Best wishes from your friend and classmate,
Paulette