The One-Room Country School: 1898

In 1904 we moved. Here the farm was less fertile. We were amongst hills, jungles, ditches, and oh, how changed we found the school. In the schoolroom were desks for the pupils, one for the teacher, a bell, broom, stove and blackboards. Not a map or dictionary to be seen. There was one outdoor toilet, and the door to it was missing. The girls used this building while the boys were assigned to cornfield and woodshed. The next year a double toilet was built. We tried to tell them that it was not prudent to build one dividing wall between boys and girls, but they had their minds made up to save on the cost. On the bank of Plum River stood the Pleasant Valley Church. As the ministers came and went, their children were welcome additions to our school. They brought new ways with them, and they seemed to serve as mascots. There was one minister who vaccinated his children against small pox. His son was my brother's seat-mate. The boy's vaccination was taking effect. He told my brother that if he scratched an open spot on his arm, and then they were to place some of the serum from his vaccination on it, that my brother, too, would then be vaccinated. It took effect. Both boys got severe scoldings. In suitable weather, we played outdoors. The games we played were; "Drop the handkerchief," Fox and Goose," London Bridge," Pump, Pump, Pull Away," "Anteover," Baseball, and "Prisoner's Base." The games we played indoors during harsh weather were; Pussy Wants a Corner," and "Fruit Basket." These were competitive games, and dust rolled up in clouds as we sped across the room. There was a big hill near the school house, and when there was snow, we would slide down the hill on home-made sleds. There was one lad who liked to take sleds away from girls after they had pulled them all the way up the hill. Finally, one girl lit into this bully, and a real battle was on. They pulled each other's hair, pushed each other into the barbed-wire fence, and they were bleeding. The ringing of the bell ended the fight. It was an even match, with no winner, no loser, no tattle-tale, and no hard feelings. When the boy combed his hair, there were wads of it that had been pulled loose. The girl began to laugh. The boy said, "Wait until you comb yours!" When the girl put a comb to her long tresses, hair came out by the handful. But the victory was hers, actually, for from then on, the girls' sleds were not bothered. We all learned the lesson that children's quarrels never left hard feelings as long as parents didn't interfere.
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This memoir was written by Hattie Flickinger, of tiny Loran, IL., about 140 miles west of Chicago. About 90 at the time, Hattie sent this in to me in 1984. I had occasion to visit her a couple of times, and found her to be bright-eyed and charming. This episode is part three of a three-parter. Wish me luck as I search for parts one and two.