An Education

School has been a big part of my life. I have known many people who actually hated everything about school, the discipline, the work, maybe the sense of inadequacy they felt. Luckily none of these feelings were in my experience. In a previous entry I told about the large, two storied antebellum house in Craven County which we shared with the Hill woman and her two daughters while her husband was in prison. They were in school, but I was too young. I was so envious to see them walking together with their books. Daddy wasn't sure sending me the next year was a good idea.Grace and Margaret Hill walked quite a long way. They had taught me some ABCs and when they moved I pestered Daddy all summer until I had learned them all. School started, but I was not going. One day he announced that he had been to the school and talked with the principal about his reluctance to have me walk so far alone. The principal agreed to have have the school bus drive down to our road. I would be the first child to board the bus. The driver was a high school senior who lived about a mile away.

The first day I went all the way to the back of the bus and sat in the very last seat. The next stop picked up two boys who sat beside me and pestered me all the way to school. They made fun of my red hair, holding their hands up to it to see if it burned. My clothing amused them. My mother was not aware of the latest fashions for school children. My underwear was longer than my dress and could be pulled up by the elastic on the legs. The boys pulled the legs down and delighted in popping the elastic. I cried all the way to school.

One day the driver noticed them tormenting me and the next morning he told me to sit in the seat right behind him. That was my special seat. It told me that he liked me better than all the other kids. I was afraid if I told Daddy about the boys he would make me quit school. I had heard that teachers would spank you if you misbehaved. Daddy said that if I got a spanking at school, he would give me one when I got home. The first stupid thing I did was tell him about the whack I got on the bottom when I was day dreaming at the end of the line coming back to the class room after recess. The other children marched in while I stood there looking behind at the clouds. I remember the teacher with her arms crossed, standing alone in the door waiting for me to wake up. As I ran past her, she whacked my bottom and suggested I should try to be at the head of the line after that, which I did.

My teacher was Miss Florence Worthington, ancient, very experienced. She had introduced me to the class that first day and presented me with a brand new yellow box of crayons. I had never used crayons before. The other children had been in school a week or two and had already broken most of their crayons. Miss Florence said, "Now, Doris is going to keep all of her crayons just like they are, and not break a one." I was sure I could, and I did for quite a long time, but one day the blue one snapped because I was bearing down too hard. I carefully put it back in the box to look unbroken, and I never used it again.

Every day was a new adventure. I knew how to draw all the numbers, but what a thrill it was to learn that the number 8 could be made easier than drawing two zeros. I went home and swirled eights all over the house.

The most exciting thing happened one day. A new student moved into our class. His name was William, but when Miss Florence had finished introducing him and telling us that he was from Florida where oranges grow, he asked if she could call him Bill and have all of us do the same, since everyone had always called him that. I was so impressed! Seeing oranges grow, having a nick name! That was so neat! I waited until the class was quiet and working away, and I quietly crept up to Miss Florence's desk and asked her if she would have all the pupils call me Maybelle, since that was what everyone had always called me.

I shall never forget the smile on her face when she very wisely said, "We will see." I knew she didn't believe me and that I was not going to get the attention I was seeking.

Shyness was never a problem with me. I knew I was not as fashionable as the others. I wanted pretty clothes, and a lunch made of store bought bread and bologna instead of the hot sweet potatoes Mama had put in my pockets to keep my hands warm on the way to school. One day I saw a pretty embroidered handkerchief in the bushes. Every day I watched to see if anyone had claimed it. One day I found a stick to reach it, but it was too short. An older girl asked what I was doing, getting my arms all scratched. She helped me get the handkerchief, which I took home and washed and kept in my treasures for many years. The older girl was a senior, I think. She asked if I wanted to eat my lunch with her and her friends, so until summer I sat with three older girls and listened to them talk about the most interesting things, mostly boyfriends.

Not having friends at school must not have worried me. I decided early on that I was smarter than most of them, because I could finish my work first and it was always right. Who needed friends? None of them lived near me, so there was no chance to play after school or in summer.

During Christmas vacation when I was in Miss Sessions' second grade we moved back to Lenoir County. Our class had drawn names, the first time I had ever heard of a Christmas party. A boy got my name and gave me an automatic pencil with replaceable lead. I treasured it for many years. Once I thought had lost it. Everyone helped me look for it. It definitely was not in the house, and I had not taken it to school. I decided to pray really hard to know where else to look, and felt impressed to look under the house. There was dry sand under there, and the house was built up on stilts about 18 inches high, big round tree posts. It was easy to get under there, and sure enough, there was my pencil in the sand, and a hole just the size of the pencil in the floor above it. The pencil could not have fallen through. Someone had pushed it. Who didn't like me?