…READING AND ‘RITING, AND ‘RITHMETIC, TAUGHT TO THE TUNE OF A HICKORY STICK…The drawing above is one my mother drew, a one-room school house on the prairie. Mom went to school there in the 1920’s; I went there 1945-46, I think. It was Lone Star School. My years in school were sort of out of order. You see, I completed first and second grade in one year; I was taken out of school in the sixth (story for another time), then I completed seventh and eighth in one year. Things were different back then.
Lone Star. Sixth-eighth-grade. Mrs. Jackson. Copying selections from the dictionary. (I did learn the sounds of long and short vowels that year! I had learned to read without being exposed to diacritical markings.) I didn’t know that what I was doing wasn’t really very meaningful until I became a teacher and wished for something to have the “brainy-er” students do to keep them out of my hair for a bit. – Then I realized why I copied the dictionary. 😀
The desks in that school were designed for two students sitting side by side so the ink well was in the middle of the desk. I cheated one time, one time only that I remember. No, hold the applause, it was no great honor that I didn’t cheat, I just didn’t think I needed to. I thought I was smart enough without cheating.
I did become a Christian, about that time, and looked at cheating as sin, so I chose to study hard.
Back to how I cheated. I looked through the ink hole to see my open geography book on the shelf beneath. As far as I know Mrs. Jackson did not know I cheated. If she did she should have made me copy the geography book instead of the dictionary!
When I graduated high school, Mrs. Jackson helped me write my valedictory address titled as most such speeches are, “Hitch your Wagon to a Star.” Not very original, but very short. I was very limited on my ability to compose any kind of composition—but long on my ability to copy pages from the dictionary! Mrs. Jackson probably came to see me on my big night; I remember little except that I was petrified to speak before my class of twenty-four graduates and all their families.
All that does not sound like a very great salute for Mrs. Jackson. So why do I think of her when I think of mentors, people who influenced my life. One lesson she taught me hit fertile soil. I think these were her exact words, “You can do anything you want to do, as long as you choose to do right.” Thanks, Mrs. Jackson, I received two lessons in that one statement. One, I must choose “right” in order to achieve my dreams, and two, I had the ability to do what I wanted to do.
And, Mrs. Jackson, if you happen to be tuned to my earthly existence, you won’t be surprised that I love grammar but I’d like you to look at my blog. I have learned to put words together in meaningful ways—composition.