This is the true story of some events that happened when I was very young. I grew up on my father’s dairy farm that was exactly one mile from the country school. My mother decided one mile was the perfect distance for me to walk to school, even though I was not yet old enough to be in first grade. She decided as well that one mile would use up a lot of my energy, which would be helpful for teachers and other children. I guess she meant they wouldn’t get too tired if I moved slower. My sister, several years older than I, had to walk part of the way as my guide on that first day.
The first business at school, at least it was the first in my mind, was to notice some of the other girls had removed their old-fashioned wool stockings. I didn’t dare laugh. If my mother saw that, she would have been embarrassed all day.
I was delighted to discover our teacher was a friendly woman. She even took time to have me jump on a chair so that she could be sure there were no ticks or lice and other obnoxious creatures in my hair. At least, that’s what the teacher said.
I found a place to sit in the sunshine and looked for other children to be my playmates. Here came three about my size. I gave each of them a nice smile. They sneered at me and said something naughty. Now I was mad. Who did these idiots think they were? They walked so close to me I stuck out my leg and gave each one a shove.
Oh oh, here came a different teacher. She wasn’t smiling. She grabbed my arm and pinched me. “You’d better be good, little girl, or you’re in trouble.” Me in trouble? “
“But teacher, they —,” I began. The teacher was hanging on to me and dragging me away.
“See this chair?” she asked. “You sit over here in this other chair. Put your kicking leg on this one and spend the afternoon keeping it away from other kids. You understand?”
I nodded and looked at the floor. Where was my sister? I needed her. She had gone home and left me alone.
I heard the good teacher’s voice. She was coming to rescue me. I heard her say, “Good morning, Luella. Did you hurt yourself? Then she was gone, smiling at the kids and telling them, “Now children, remember how we did this before. Don’t throw the ball. Just toss it gently and…”
Time flew by fast. Suddenly, all the kids were running toward the schoolhouse. I hurried to keep up. Kids were pushing me, shoving me, yelling in my ears. “Save that sandwich for me. Don’t let that new kid get it.” The new kid, that was me.
A boy three times bigger than me stood where I could see no one but him. He held a huge sandwich in front of my face.
“You like this?” I nodded yes, thinking he would give me a little of it. Instead he opened his mouth wide and gobbled it all.
By reaching out between thick arms and standing on tip toes behind grabbing hands, I was able to take hold of a sandwich no one wanted and claimed it as mine. A shrill bell rang.
“Is school over for today?” I asked any person who would notice me. “Of course,” somebody answered as if everybody would know. “That’s the only thing that bell does.” Another voice snickered, “Except for when it tells us a silly kid is taking too much room.”
Editor’s note: How Luella deals with these challenges will be concluded in part two next week.
Luella Dow is a Cheney-area author. She can be reached at [email protected].
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