Golden Days Of One-Room Schoolhouse

Memories of time spent attending a one-room schoolhouse.

| Good Old Days

The Goldenrod is butter yellow; standing there in shame as those who pick its beautiful blossoms are now off to the opening of another school term. I recall when those lovely wild flowers were laden with dust along the road where the Model Ts went merrily along dirt roads. I remember trying to walk within the ruts as I trudged toward the one-room schoolhouse. Fall, with its profusion of Goldenrod is a reminder of those days.

Those were lovely days in my early life: my worries were centered on "how could I get the attention of a certain little boy in blue overalls?" Another worry wrinkle might come when I wondered if Ma put enough fried chicken in my syrup bucket so I would have a leg left for the long walk home! Problems inside the books were nothing compared to those stinging problems in the girls out-house  wasp nests and big black ants!

Ah, time has changed the school scene; roads are blacktopped, kids ride a bus to class, hot lunch is served in an air conditioned room and the 3 R's seemed to have taken a back seat to higher kinds of learning. It seems, life is no longer simple...even halls of learning leave me in a daze!

Annabel Whobrey
Rogersville, Missouri

Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community. 

1/9/2012 3:36:43 PM

Ah, the schoolhouse outhouse. No, I'm not old enough to remember that (although I well remember the outhouse here at home, and at my grandmother's!) but I do remember the tale of an old friend who taught in a nearby one-room school. She had called the children in from noon recess one day, and realized one boy was missing. After stern questioning, the others finally told her he was down in the outhouse, screaming. So, she went to check. Now it appears that there was a knot-hole in one of the boards between the boys' side and the girls' side--and this young man had been amusing himself by poking something through--and it wasn't his finger. One little girl had gone home to confide in her daddy, who thoughtfully provided her with a spring clothspin. The teacher seemed to believe the young man had seen the error of his ways and repented, so after giving him a stern lecture, she freed him and administered no purther punishment. (And there were no further instances.) Hmmm... Seems to me some of our politicians would be the better for something like this!

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