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My
first grade teacher was Mrs. Mary McCullah in 1920 or 21. I played hooky
until
Mother
found out about it. After a good dose of hickory tea, I liked school much
better. At one school ‘breaking’ (sic) when I was 5 years old,
I recited the following poem (author unknown):
“
When I was just a little lad and had my feeling hurt,
I used to hide my wounded pride behind my mother’s skirt.
The little boys and girls today are up against it right,
The skirts today are such that they don’t hide the mothers quite.”
I remember using a schoolhouse door to carry Lloyd Smith
home after he had fallen out of a tree. I remember playing marbles, roll-a-hole,
shinny
games (stick and
can), hoop rolling, mountain roving, fox and hounds, possum hunts and sunrise
breakfasts. I remember being adopted by half the families and dreaded by
the other half. Time has erased most of the bad memories and left
the good: good
friends, good times, and a good life.
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