school days

I'm reading The Whistling Season by Ivan Doig for my book club. It's set in Montana in 1909 and centers around a one-room schoolhouse and the lives of its inhabitants. And although my early schooling featured two rooms Upper and Lower, the spirit emanating from the pages is very recognizable.

Critics may say that we received an inferior education in those sparse two rooms, which so few enhancements beyond the battered texts that were solemnly handed out at the beginning of each year, but what was lacking in externals perhaps was more than compensated in spirit.

We were a community. Obviously we knew everyone. When the sum total of four grades equaled about 36 children, there weren't sheltering corners. You knew, loved, feared, resented, envied, admired, tolerated everyone. No mysteries.

But how many priceless truths were learned in a game of recess "round-town" or hopscotch, or Flying Dutchmen? Or in "fetching" water in a pail, or earning the right to ring the bell, pulling on that gnarled, rough rope as hard as you could (and pray not to leave the floor in my case!) or clapping erasers or washing the blackboards, or sweeping the oiled floors? Music was provided by the ancient off-key piano and our enthusiastic voices. Art was white paste and construction paper. Lunch often involved potatoes baking on the ledge of the big coal stove in the front of the room. Lessons were heard four times - once with your small group and then again below or above you, reinforcing what you had learned and opening windows to new ground. As you weren't even allowed to take textbooks home, when that bell rang at three you were done. Period. Think of that in light of today's children who face hours of homework as well as other organized activities before their heads hit the pillow at night.

Inferior education? I'm whistling through my childhood season along with the kids in Montana!