Our Town, 2005
I visited my hometown of Hamburg yesterday during my lunch hour, running a few errands. As I headed south leaving town, I stopped at the second of two redlights in town, the interesection of 425 and Hwy 8. I looked east toward First Baptist....then I saw it. I couldn't believe my eyes, the old Portis Elementary School has bee razed to the ground!
I sat there, agog. The light turned green, and I reluctantly drove on as I stared in a mixture of disbelief and sadness. You have to understand...my very first days of school were spent in that old building. I didn't attend kindergarten, as it wasn't a requirement back in the stone age, so my first classroom experience occured the first day of school, first grade.
My first teacher was Mrs. Mary Barker, and to this day, she is STILL my favorite teacher, ever. I remember, like it was yesterday, the feeling of excitement and wonder as I entered that classroom for the first time. There were amazing things everywhere, bright colors, all types of gadgets, a mammoth chalk board with colored chalk!, and BOOKS....I have never in my life seen so many BOOKS! And I wanted to read all of them, at once.
Those first days of school were a time of wonder for me. I was a country kid, so I didn't know ANY of my classmates, so I learned how to make friends. I had many happy days at that school, and I remember many of the teachers who were there...of course, Mrs. Barker, also Mrs. Pauline Knight, Delores Nutter (who was my second grade teacher), and I could NEVER forget my principal, Mr. Bobby Harper.
I must tell you a story about my first visit to the pricipal's office. It was unplanned, I tell you...and I was HORRIFIED. I was sitting in Mrs. Nutter's class one day, when one of my classmates passed me a note. Now, I didn't know that note passing was what NOT to do, so I took it, opened it and proceeded to read it. It had a word on there I had never seen before, but I did recognize the first word as "BULL----". The second word was shit, but being 7 years old, and never having seen it before, I was clueless. About the time I had it read, Mrs. Nutter appeared before me and removed the piece of paper from my hand.
She said, "What do you have to say about this?"
Trembling with fear, I replied, "Sammy Cook handed it to me."
Yes, I still remember his name. So, she carts us both off to see the principal. I would much rather have faced a firing squad than to go there, because I knew what ever misery was dealt to me at school, would be doubled by the time I got home....via Bobby and Syl. I steeled myself and took a deep breath as we entered the-place-from-which-bad-students-never-return. There sat Bobby Harper, looking very stern. I might have well been given audience with the Pope, because I was utterly stricken...with fear, wonder, awe. I was in THE principal's office, and I was there to be disciplined. I might not survive, so I said a silent prayer of supplication to my maker, and got ready to tell my version of the story.
He looked briefly at the note, trying to appear unamused by this heinous offense in ink.
"Who wrote this?', he inquired. I said NOTHING, not wanting to rat out my classmate. Remember, I had no idea what the note said.
"I did.", said Sammy, speaking in the tiniest voice I had ever heard.
Mr. Harper then asked the worst question a disciplinarian could ever ask, "What do you both think I should do about this?'
Shock, horror! I couldn't believe he was actually asking ME how I would be paying for said offense. Sammy muttered something unintelligible in reply. I just stood there, with a snaggle-toothed guffaw. After a moment, I told him what I had heard, many, many times from my parents as they doled out discipline to my older siblings. Remember, I was SEVEN.
With all the dignity I could muster, I calmly replied, " Mr. Harper, I guess I'll just have to face the consequences."
I recieved no paddling, nor did I face any type of torture for my offense.
When Mr. Harper was able to speak, stifling laughter he said, "Don't either of you let me catch you passing notes like this again, do you understand?"
Big-eyed and thankful, we both replied with a hearty, "Yes, sir!"
Mrs. Nutter was grinning like a mule eating sawbriars as she steered us back to class. The instant the door shut to Mr. Harper's office, he literally burst out laughing. I never could figure out what was so funny about such a brush with certain death.
Later, much later in life, my mother recounted her version of that story to me. She told me of how she received a phone call that day, from a breathless-with-laughter young principal. She told me of how he could hardly tell the story without laughing, and the pride she felt at my resolve. It's one of those memories of childhood ingrained forever in my mind.
So, goodbye, Portis Elementary...if only those walls could speak! Now, it's a pile of rubble. But once upon a long time ago, a young girl from the country came to town, and became a student within it's brick walls.
I sat there, agog. The light turned green, and I reluctantly drove on as I stared in a mixture of disbelief and sadness. You have to understand...my very first days of school were spent in that old building. I didn't attend kindergarten, as it wasn't a requirement back in the stone age, so my first classroom experience occured the first day of school, first grade.
My first teacher was Mrs. Mary Barker, and to this day, she is STILL my favorite teacher, ever. I remember, like it was yesterday, the feeling of excitement and wonder as I entered that classroom for the first time. There were amazing things everywhere, bright colors, all types of gadgets, a mammoth chalk board with colored chalk!, and BOOKS....I have never in my life seen so many BOOKS! And I wanted to read all of them, at once.
Those first days of school were a time of wonder for me. I was a country kid, so I didn't know ANY of my classmates, so I learned how to make friends. I had many happy days at that school, and I remember many of the teachers who were there...of course, Mrs. Barker, also Mrs. Pauline Knight, Delores Nutter (who was my second grade teacher), and I could NEVER forget my principal, Mr. Bobby Harper.
I must tell you a story about my first visit to the pricipal's office. It was unplanned, I tell you...and I was HORRIFIED. I was sitting in Mrs. Nutter's class one day, when one of my classmates passed me a note. Now, I didn't know that note passing was what NOT to do, so I took it, opened it and proceeded to read it. It had a word on there I had never seen before, but I did recognize the first word as "BULL----". The second word was shit, but being 7 years old, and never having seen it before, I was clueless. About the time I had it read, Mrs. Nutter appeared before me and removed the piece of paper from my hand.
She said, "What do you have to say about this?"
Trembling with fear, I replied, "Sammy Cook handed it to me."
Yes, I still remember his name. So, she carts us both off to see the principal. I would much rather have faced a firing squad than to go there, because I knew what ever misery was dealt to me at school, would be doubled by the time I got home....via Bobby and Syl. I steeled myself and took a deep breath as we entered the-place-from-which-bad-students-never-return. There sat Bobby Harper, looking very stern. I might have well been given audience with the Pope, because I was utterly stricken...with fear, wonder, awe. I was in THE principal's office, and I was there to be disciplined. I might not survive, so I said a silent prayer of supplication to my maker, and got ready to tell my version of the story.
He looked briefly at the note, trying to appear unamused by this heinous offense in ink.
"Who wrote this?', he inquired. I said NOTHING, not wanting to rat out my classmate. Remember, I had no idea what the note said.
"I did.", said Sammy, speaking in the tiniest voice I had ever heard.
Mr. Harper then asked the worst question a disciplinarian could ever ask, "What do you both think I should do about this?'
Shock, horror! I couldn't believe he was actually asking ME how I would be paying for said offense. Sammy muttered something unintelligible in reply. I just stood there, with a snaggle-toothed guffaw. After a moment, I told him what I had heard, many, many times from my parents as they doled out discipline to my older siblings. Remember, I was SEVEN.
With all the dignity I could muster, I calmly replied, " Mr. Harper, I guess I'll just have to face the consequences."
I recieved no paddling, nor did I face any type of torture for my offense.
When Mr. Harper was able to speak, stifling laughter he said, "Don't either of you let me catch you passing notes like this again, do you understand?"
Big-eyed and thankful, we both replied with a hearty, "Yes, sir!"
Mrs. Nutter was grinning like a mule eating sawbriars as she steered us back to class. The instant the door shut to Mr. Harper's office, he literally burst out laughing. I never could figure out what was so funny about such a brush with certain death.
Later, much later in life, my mother recounted her version of that story to me. She told me of how she received a phone call that day, from a breathless-with-laughter young principal. She told me of how he could hardly tell the story without laughing, and the pride she felt at my resolve. It's one of those memories of childhood ingrained forever in my mind.
So, goodbye, Portis Elementary...if only those walls could speak! Now, it's a pile of rubble. But once upon a long time ago, a young girl from the country came to town, and became a student within it's brick walls.
posted by Reality Chick at 7:10 AM
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