Deanna Growing Up***LOAD CHALLENGE***

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Deanna Growing UpLOAD CHALLENGE

Journaling is on 2 more pages–decorated just like these two. Journaling says: I don’t remember much about Kindergarten. I started school when I was 5 ½ years old, due to my January birthday, and the cut-off date was December 31st. I attended Central Elementary School in the Clarenceville School District. Clarenceville was the “other side of the tracks” part of Livonia Michigan—a very poor school district. Back “in the olden days” the local residents funded the local school, so my school wasn’t funded very well. It didn’t matter to us; we had a good time anyhow. My Kindergarten classroom was located in the portable building next to the main school. It was long building containing two rooms and two bathrooms for each room. In addition, each room had a large entryway that we called the cloakroom. It had hooks about 36 inches from the floor all around the room where the students hung up their coats on the way to their assigned seats. We also left our snow boots, umbrellas, and gloves in that room. Our class met in one of the rooms in this building and the first graders met in the other room. My class was a morning class, and at noon, my fellow students and I would go home and another group of Kindergarten students would take our place. I don’t remember how many children were in each class, but I remember there were several tables full. Each short table sat either 4 or 6 students. The room itself had radiators and shelves on one long wall and windows above these, cupboards on the wall adjoining the next room, with a door in the middle to gain access to that room, and black boards on the third wall. The fourth wall housed the bulletin board. If our teacher had to take a break, the students were required to “put their head down” on their arms, which were resting on the table. Then the teacher would open the door between the rooms, and the teacher in the other room would listen for any disturbances while our teacher was away. I remember one day, while doing a coloring project, my “neighbor” that sat across the table from me, decided to borrow one of my crayons from my trusty cigar box. I had different plans for my crayons, and didn’t give them up without a struggle. He was leaning back in his chair when I let go of the cigar box. To my horror, he fell back and hit his head on the radiator. He had to be taken to the hospital for stitches!! I always felt like it had been HIS fault, of course, because he had his own cigar box full of crayons to begin with! That, however, didn’t take away the sense of guilt I felt for him getting hurt. I also remember getting shots at school. It was the year Johan Salk was testing his newly invented vaccine. I was part of his test. They intentionally chose children in poorer areas because they were supposedly hardier than those children in the richer areas, according to reports. Half of the students received the vaccine and half the students received a placebo. I always felt sorry for the kids that got the placebo. Their shots hurt as badly as the shots that the vaccine was in. And after the tests, and they determined the vaccine was a success, those students were required to get the REAL vaccine!! I was one of the lucky ones because I received the real vaccine. I got a card that stated I was a Polio Pioneer—and the principal of our school signed it. I was proud to be a Polio Pioneer. I lorded it over my sister when SHE had to go get the shots!! The only other incident I remember from Kindergarten was my teacher had a nervous breakdown. There was this little red-haired girl in our class—I don’t remember her name, but she used to throw temper-tantrums almost every day. It proved too much for our poor teacher to handle. Halfway through our kindergarten year, we got a new teacher. I don’t remember either of the names though. I don’t remember anything from first grade other than I wasn’t in the portable building anymore—there must have been more than one 1st grade I guess! I don’t remember the teacher’s name or anything. I don’t remember anything from 2nd grade either. But I do remember a few things from third grade. My teacher’s name was Mrs. Willis. She was an older lady—probably in her 40’s!! Funny how that seemed old to me then. Anyhow, I really liked her. She was a sweet lady. She had short-cropped dark hair, and always wore dark clothing. She always smelled nice. I remember my 4th grade teacher, but not because she was nice! She was a terror. Her name was Miss Shields. She looked the part of the stereotypical schoolteacher. She wore horned rimmed glasses, and she liked to look up through the area between the glasses and her forehead. She had her favorites in the classroom, and she had the ones she picked on unmercifully. I was in the middle. I don’t ever remember being picked on, but I sure wasn’t one of her favorites! We moved upstairs for 5th and 6 grades. That is where the big kids went. I had a great teacher for 5th grade. Her name was Mrs. Pillar. She used to read books to us after lunch recess. She’d read a chapter a day, and it always felt like she quit the story right when it was getting good. It made us look forward to the next reading. If we misbehaved during the morning classes, we got punished by not getting our story time. She read us several books that year, and I enjoyed her class immensely. In sixth grade, I had my first MAN teacher. I forget his name, but I remember liking him. I thought he was a good teacher. For 7th grade, we moved to another school. Several elementary schools in the area fed into this one junior high school. It was Clarenceville Junior High School. We had a new high school that year, so this was the first year that the junior high and high school were at separate schools. These two schools were located directly across the street from one another—about ½-1 miles from the elementary school I had attended. We were all tested during the last part of 6th grade, so when we started 7th grade, we were placed in classes with students of similar abilities. There were 5 levels, and I was in the second one. Most of my friends from Central School ended up in this level, or the top level. A few were in the third level. The teacher’s didn’t tell us we were in levels. We figured it out on our own. Kids have a way of doing that. We switched classes in 7th and 8th grade, but we had the same students in each class—just with a different teacher for each subject. For 9th grade, I attended the “new” Clarenceville High School—which was 4 years old now. It was a far cry from what I’d been accustomed to until now. Both Central School Elementary and the Junior High were very old buildings with very old furniture and equipment. Clarenceville High School was still fairly new, and had nice desks, and the bathrooms all worked. It had windows that you could open because they weren’t painted shut, and we had lockers that had a built in combination lock on the door. We still had to travel across the street for our Physical Education classes. When they built the high school, they ran out of money before they got around to building the gymnasium!! We acquired that a few years later. I believe my graduating class was the first class to use the new gym for graduation exercises. I don’t remember much from my high school years, other than I took classes, passed classes, and moved on up to the next grade level each year. Two special friends during my high school years were Judy Woodward and Sandy Nye. We were together so much our teachers called us the three musketeers. We signed up for driver’s training together during the summer between 9th and 10th grade. We had a great time scaring each other to death—along with our teacher Mr. Nutter. We had to learn how to drive both a stick shift and an automatic. Our group had to learn on the stick shift first. It was one of those things I didn’t think I’d ever master. One time when I was driving I almost clipped a roadside mailbox. When Judy drove, she’d forget to change gears and we’d drive all over in 2nd gear. Sandy had a lead foot! I was happy to finally graduate from High School. It felt like a huge accomplishment at the time. Back in those days, many of the students that started high school didn’t finish. My mom, for instance, only finished 10th grade, and my father dropped out after 8th grade. Therefore, education wasn’t a priority in my family. That was soon to change.