Ours was a real country school, with one teacher to teach some twenty pupils in all of the subjects. During the years I attended Public School, I was taught by four different teachers. One teacher, in particular, I will always remember, was the one who accepted "court" in the school anteroom during school hours. The courting swain was one of the Trustees, an eligible bachelor. Well, they got married at the end of that school year, after she had taught just for one year. They subsequently raised a family, who raised a family, and all was well.

We usually went to public school barefoot, as soon as we could convince Mama that we had, indeed, seen twenty-four dandelions. Besides, other boys and girls, too, were barefoot at school. Going barefoot on the farm was often hazardous. In the fields there were stones and thistles, not to mention the hay stubbles, etc. Then there was always the hazard of broken glass and sharp nails to contend with. But it was fun ----

In those school days "lunch boxes" became "lunch pails" -- recycled used honey pails with lids and wire handle. Lunches usually consisted of several sandwiches, a home-made cookie or piece of pie, sometimes an apple or pear, if in season. The sandwiches could be peanut butter or fried egg on fresh home-made bread and butter. However, we did not always have butter or egg for sandwiches. Butter and eggs were two of our main money makers. In those days, about 1923, eggs brought us 15 cents a dozen and butter as much as thirty cents a pound. For this reason, both of these items were rationed. For substitutes, Ma gave us cold bacon dripping for butter and peanut butter in place of egg. I remember, at least once we had salt and pepper on the bread for our sandwiches.

In the winter months, we would often carry a medium-sized potato with our initials carved on it. This would be roasted on the top of the school stove. Onions were also a treat.

We always had some homework to do. We would get Ma or Pa to help with the tough questions, sitting around the dining room table where the light was good.

Then there were "Wolf" and "Prisoner's Base". Of course we played baseball and basketball. The winter games were snow games, such as "Fox and the Geese" and "The Hare and the Hounds". When the snow was of the packing quality, we built snow forts and had snowball fights (the shades of World War One).

Along with the winter snow games, snow forts and snow men, a rural school provided wet clothing, wet feet, nippy fingers, tingling ears and red noses. In turn, all of this gave birth to the common cold, runny noses, sore throats and barking coughs. The treatment for any and all of these ailments was the standby, Mentholatum rub, hot flannel, followed by a dose of Epsom Salts, just to make sure. When these remedies failed, then a Mustard Plaster, followed by a goose-grease and Turpentine rub and sometimes a Quinine Capsule and confinement in bed under a pile of blankets to keep the body heat from escaping into the ever-chilly bedroom.

Then there were the times when we all came down with the Measles, and then Chicken-pox, one after the other. The doctor was required to leave a pink notice to be tacked on the door, warning any and all visitors of the dangers lurking inside. I will never forget the time I had the Mumps. Well, my throat and jaw were twice the size and I sure could not eat pickles. However, we all managed to live through these handicaps and were able to go back to school and help with the regular farm chores.

On First Days (Sundays) we all usually got dressed up and went to First Day school at ten o'clock. Following at eleven o'clock, for an hour, there was Friend's Meeting for Worship. Us boys would all be dressed in our Sunday best -- freshly washed shirts and bow-tie, knee-pants, long, black stockings, and well-polished black buttoned shoes. Nellie would have on her Sunday best dress, button shoes and a nice ribbon in her red-blond curly hair. Of course, we were supposed to have washed our hands and face, but sometimes someone would be overlooked. Pa had hitched up the team to the surrey and we were just ready to go when Ma exclaimed, "Oh my, your face is still dirty." I think that she was referring to me. "Just hold still a minute." Then she would open her satchel and taking out a nice clean hankie, wet a corner of it in her mouth and proceeded to wipe away the breakfast egg still clinging at the corner of my mouth. This was Mama's affectionate way of looking after her family. I ask you, what could be more touching, yet more humiliating? That should teach me to be more neat and tidy.

After Meeting, and the hands were all shaken and visiting done, we would hurry home, at least I would. We were anxious to get out of these Sunday Best and into duds that were more comfortable and practical for doing those things all small boys enjoy doing.