SCHOOL DAYS

THE school house on High Prairie was a single room, unceiled, unpainted, almost unfurnished. The stove sat in the middle of the room, and the stove pipe ran out the end of the room, right over the heads of any pupil who sat under its path. (It was this pipe that fell on the head of the unsuspecting, praying preacher.) There were benches of rough boards, along the walls on two sides of the room. Nails were driven into the wall above the benches, and we hung our wraps on these nails and put our lunches on the long bench. The father of each family of child attending school made desks enough to supply his brood, and took them to the school house. Some were large, some were small, some smooth, some rough, some well made, some very sketchily put together. Each child supplied his own books, and took to school and studied whatever sort of book the family happened to possess. So classes were almost impossible to or Some times several children would have the same kind of books, and could be taught the same lesson at the same time.

Poor Teacher! Later, of course, regular systems of books were adopted and this problem was eliminated. I remember that Al Berry had a book with lurid pictures of a boy who had been knocked down with a stick, by the man for whom he was sup to be working. The book said that he had been struck by a "rod" and that he "lay on the sod." Now little Al lisped and so struggled with his s He read it, "Poor Tom, lay on the thod."

Big boys who seemed men to me, and were probably nearing manhood, came to school. One day, one of these big fellows wante(l to show off, so climbed up to the joists under the roof, and sat there and swung his legs, laughing, nor would he come down until he so desired.

One year there were sixty children, big and little, of all ages and grades, huddled into that one room, sitting on those hard, straight seats, sometimes crowded three in a seat, for lack of room. That year, we were presided over by an extremely tall man, named Neal. I was terribly afraid of him.

But, somehow, we learned and "readin' and writin' and 'rithmetic," and a smattering of general knowledge. I was almost grown before I knew that sugar and coffee didn't just grow in a store.

It was to be expected that with boys and girls almost grown, at school together, that romance would develop. Some were cases of just puppy love, but at least two marriages re from these romances.

One, I remember distinctly. John Berry and Grace Parshall had gone to a neighbor house to get a pail of water for the school. They were coming back with a pail full, when they set the water down and began to talk seriously. They then sat down on a fallen log, and John proposed the momentous question, and they became engaged. When they were a little older, they were married, and spent many years together; in fact, until Grace death, at the birth of their only child.

Then there were George French and Ivea Boston, who were married as a result of their school day courtship. As I write this, they are still living together on a farm near Pasco, Wash after more than fifty years of married life.

When I was a very small girl, attending this same school, I fell madly in love with a boy about my own age, Carl Berry.

Now, we received headmarks in spelling, for the one who could get to the head of the class. To reach the head of the class we had to really know how to spell. The teacher would pronounce a word to the child at the head of the class. If that child could spell it, well and good. If he missed it, the child below him would get a chance to spell it, and if he was suc he went ahead of the one who had missed. Each child tried to work his way to the head of the class. (After 30 years of teaching, this seems like one way to get children to study their spelling lessons.)

Now, the year that Carl and my love affair was flourishing, the teacher offered a prize to the child who received the most headmarks in our spelling class.

When the day of school drew near, I had one head-mark more than my beloved Carl, and I was head of the class, and my suitor next to me. So we made a bargain. I was to miss a word, and Carl would spell it, go ahead of me, and get the head-mark, thus making us even in headmarks, and giving us an equal chance at the prize.

The spelling class was called. We formed in a more or less straight line in front of the long "recitation bench;" barefoot little boys in homemade shirts, and their trousers reaching half between ankles and knees, and little girls in brown or blue or pink or green gingham "sack" aprons, hair towsled after long hours away from mother.

But we could spell! As I said, I was head of the class. The first word was given to me. Zip! I missed it! Not without a little twinge of disappointment, I must confess, for I really wanted the honor of having the most headmarks. But my love for my sweetheart was greater. So with a twist of my heart, I missed the word. Carl, being next below me was given the chance to spell it, which he did, and passed above me to receive the headmark, giving us each the same number of headmarks and making us equally eligible to receive the prize. But the teacher was fair. She gave us each a prize. Mine was a little amber glass dish, and Carl a small amount of money. I believe this was my first great sacrifice for love!

At noons and recesses, we played ball out at the side of the house, using the immenge nine trees which grew there, (and were still there a few years ago when I visited the old neighborhood), for bases. It seems this was the favorite sport.

Then there were the usual games ot "dare base," "black man," "cat and mouse," "jump the rope," and many others. We younger children made wonderful playhouses, using the smooth stones found in the dry creek beds to outline our domiciles. Our household effects were wonderful to see. An upholstered chair was made by putting a small piece of board on two rocks of the proper size, and cushioning it with lovely, soft, green moss. We would take boxes to school for cupboards, where we stored our choice china scraps of broken dishes, also brought from home. And so on with our furnishings. The carpet was moss, or the bare earth, swept clean with a pine needle broom. The ceiling was the tree under which our house was located, or the broad expanse of blue Klickitat sky.