Summer, was over. Silliness and frolicking in the grass, had ended. Watching
butterflies, was over. Chasing dragonflies by the pond, had ended.
Tumbling and cartwheeling through the yard was over. Exhausted and sleeping,
curled up with the cats on sunny afternoons, had also ended.
Fall had come, again. It was time to eat sunflower seeds on the rooftop
of the old shed, again. It was time to eat endless numbers of cobs of corn
at supper time, again.
It was also time to go back to school. Going back to school meant the
same teacher, the same desk and the same friends and enemies.
It was a one-room school with eight grades....a few students in each grade.
Everyone brought lunch because no one lived close to the school.
That meant we all traded and bargained for each other's sandwiches
And the few of us who lived on the wrong side of the tracks, had to crawl
under the train to get to school. If we didn't, we were late. And being
late would mean staying after school to clean blackboards and write
hundreds of lines, 'I will not be late for school, again.'
We weren't sure which was better, missing the morning anthem and prayers
or doing detention. Being detained also meant we'd miss our after-school
ride. So, we'd crawl under the train again, if it was still there, then,
off we'd hike down the road toward home.
A slow tractor might pass by or a very slow combine might pass by as it
headed home or to the next field that needed to be harvested. We waved
our empty lunch pails to all who passed including the ocassional stray cow
or escaped pig.
Another year at school meant study and concentration and bloody memorization.
Hey, we could do it. With some effort, we definitely knew we could do it.
Causes Wendy McNally Supports
Cancer Support; Sick Kids