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"Still sits the school
house by the road," is the beginning of a poem I learned long
ago. The little school house, named after my family, also still
stands. It is located on the corner of Section 20 in Cherry Grove
Township, Wexford County, Michigan. It stands among many maple trees
planted one hundred years ago by students and teachers with vision.
The one-room building was small, with
green chalkboards across the front, and a long recitation bench near
the board. Hooks in the back of the room held our coats under the
shelf where our lunch pails were placed.
A huge furnace stood in the southwest
corner of the building. Six rows of seats filled the room, with big
double seats for big kids on the east, and small seats on the west.
Each student had a partner, and it made it much harder to keep from
whispering. In kindergarten I sat with Maybelle Thompson.
Such an exciting time! Almost five and
going to school like the big kids did! At last, I could have one new
dress and new shoes! And was I ready to go! It was 1919, and it was
the last week in August as I hurried down the road with Irene,
Chester, and Wilbur to see our new teacher, Mabel Mapes. I felt
great, only a little scared, too. I soon learned what school was all
about. We were there to learn and not to giggle! I think I stood in
the corner, with my nose to the wall every day for the first month.
(It seemed like every day!) I turned around in my seat to look at
the other students, and one big boy, Devour Johnson, made faces at
me, and of course, I giggled.
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"Go to the corner,
Helen," were the inevitable words I heard each day. There I
stood, sometimes peeking around to see if Devour was still doing all
his funny stuff, and sometimes he was. I don't know how long I stood
in the comer each time, but I was always glad to get back to my
seat. My parents took me out of school for the cold winter months,
and I resumed the next fall to enter first grade. I guess they
thought I wasn't learning much anyway, so I could do better at home.
(Or maybe the teacher encouraged them to get me out of there!)
Truthfully, I've never gotten over the desire to giggle, and
it has often got me in trouble - even in church.
My first grade teacher was Emma Bacon. It was she that taught
me to read. I remember my first book, which had a picture of a mad,
spitting cat. Out of that cat's mouth came the letters FFFF. With my
pencil I traced around the picture so many times I believe it
finally came out. I learned the sound of the letter F as well as the
sounds of all the other letters.
It was during my first grade in school that my family got
scarlet fever. We were quarantined for three months and couldn't go
to school. The officials ordered us to burn all our books because
germs would live in them.
We finally got back to school and my teacher could walk down
the middle of the road again. I had seen her go past our house
during our sickness and she always walked on the far side, next to
the neighbor's fence. She didn't want any of our germs!
The year passed, summer came, and then it was school time
again. I was a second grader, and my teacher was Stella Shafer. I
loved her dearly. She and my brother Elwin dated and he gave her an
engagement ring. I thought she would be my sister-in-law, but she
broke the engagement and kept the ring. That was the only criticism
I ever heard about her. She was an excellent teacher and I learned a
great deal-so much that she skipped me at the end of the year to the
fourth grade. During her first year there, I remember two incidents.
I needed a drink, and the cup that usually hung on the pump was
gone, so the teacher loaned me a little aluminum collapsible cup to
use as I pumped the water. I dropped the cup and it fell between the
boards into the well pit. I went into the schoolhouse to tell her. I
was crying because I was scared. She was very sympathetic and
forgave me.
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Another thing that happened that year was when Chester was
hurt. He was carrying in wood to feed the fire in the furnace, and a
transom door fell on him as he entered the room. It knocked him
unconscious, and he lay there on the schoolroom floor with blood
from a cut on his head flowing freely. He revived and survived and
the cut was bandaged, and the transom nailed shut.
Miss Shafer was my fourth grade teacher also. Even though I
had been pushed along in school, math was very difficult for me. In
second grade she had tried to teach me multiplication and I began to
block. As a problem was given me, I had difficulties the teacher
didn't realize, and I bluffed some way, but I couldn't learn until
fourth grade how to multiply hundreds by hundreds, and when thought
problems came along I was more confused. In every other class I did
well.
In fifth grade, a new teacher came. Her name was Helga
Peterson. We had told Miss Shafer good-bye and she went to another
school to teach. There she met a man, Neil Copley, and married him
and moved back to our community where she lived nearly all the rest
of her life. I visited her as often as I could, and we were friends
until she died at the age of 87. On one of those visits she told me
that my brother Bruce was the smartest student she ever had.
Miss Peterson wasn't as strict as our other teachers had
been, but she was very good to us. Each morning she read to us, and
instilled in me the love of books. Her sessions of 10 minutes
sometimes stretched to 15 or 20 as we begged her not to stop. Gene
Stratton Porter's "Girl of the Limberlost," came alive, as
did Zane Grey's "The Light of the Western Stars," and
James Oliver Curwood's "Kazan," and "The Border
Watch" which was all about Indians. She was a good oral reader,
and I learned from her that I wasn't. In our history class she had
us read aloud, and once after my rendition, she said to another
student, "Now you read it." I was stunned! I felt like a
failure, and my natural timidity increased. For many years I was
afraid to speak or be in the public eye in any way.
Miss Peterson often lengthened our noon hour so we could
slide down the hill across from the school. When the bell rang, and
we ran into the schoolhouse to remove and hang up coats, caps and
mittens, we didn't run because we loved school. We didn't want to be
late! As we sat there in the little room, we were wet, and we had to
stay damp for the rest of the day. Memories of the smell of wet,
steaming clothes comes back to me now. How did it happen we didn't
catch colds, or become very sick sitting there half a day in wet
garments? We felt it was worth it all, just to be out at noon hour
to play, even though we had to give up some of our recesses.
Day after day we ran to the hill at noon, the big kids on one
side of the steep hill, and we younger ones on the little
hill." I can see the big kids now in my mind's eye: Alva and
Alma Morgan, the twins who were born when their mother was 52 years
old; Lila, Duane, and Ethelyn Johnson.
Then there was Archie and Devere Johnson, and Gladys Eiler.
What fun they seemed to be having. I could hardly wait to be one of
them.
Even in the autumn and spring, the teacher would let us have
longer noon hours, and we played hide-and-go-seek. I stole across
the road one day into Section 29 to a little grove of trees and
settled down to wait to be found. An owl flew into a tree nearby and
sat, blinking its eyes. I watched, being careful not to move. No one
found me and I had to go at last and was caught. Of course, the owl
flew away, and I never discovered what kind it was.
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One day at school our teacher
informed us she had a surprise. There was to be an eclipse of the
sun. What in the world is that? I wondered. She had smoked glass for
us to look through. (She had held pieces of glass over a lamp flame
to smoke them). We could see the sun disappearing and the world
became quite dark. We spent quite a while outside and got out of a
lot of work. We didn't realize we were in the midst of a science
lesson that we would never forget.
Spring and autumn at school found the girls playing
hop-scotch and jacks. I became very proficient at both.
Besides playing jacks at school, we also played
"Ante-l-over," using the schoolhouse to throw the ball
over. If we caught the ball, we sneaked around to catch as many on
the other side as we could, for they must be on our team then.
Red Rover was another game we played. We called, "Red
Rover, Red Rover, won't you come over?" The opposing team
sneaked as close as they dared, then retreated, but were often
caught before they had gotten to safety, and they too had to be our
captives and work for us.
But baseball was our main reason for wanting recess. We hit
the doorway yelling the position we wanted to play. We called it
"Work Up." Each time someone came into home plate, we
worked up to another position and the batter went to the field. I
usually chose to be the first baseman. From there I went to
catcher, then pitcher, then
batter. Fielders worked up too, and were put on third base, then
worked their way up. It was very exciting, and the one who got to
the door first and yelled the loudest got the position he coveted.
Programs at school were always fun for the students. We had
to practice every day for at least two weeks before the plays could
be presented. We must learn to be quiet backstage behind the
curtain, and to speak loudly enough to be heard at the back of the
room.
One year I had to recite a poem, and because it was
difficult, I put a tune to it and sang it as I learned it. On the
program night, I really worried that I would forget and sing it
instead of saying the words. Because of that experience, I learned
that things were more easily memorized by singing, so when I became
a teacher, I put many things I wanted the children to learn into
music. I still have copies of "The Letter People" the
ABC's and their music which told a story and the sound the letter
made.
When I was in sixth grade, someone gave us a pair of high-top
shoes. My parents made me wear them, even if they were a little too
small, because I had no other shoes. How I hated those old-lady
shoes, as I called them. Perhaps I wouldn't have minded so much, or
might have forgotten about them, but one day a new family started to
school - two girls and a boy. He was so handsome with his black wavy
hair and brown eyes, and he saw me with those shoes on! I wouldn't
have a chance with him, and I was already smitten. That night I
really complained to my parents about my tight shoes. I soon got new
shoes, and Buster and I hit it off together from then on. On the
woodshed, behind the schoolhouse, our initials H.N + B.H. in a big
heart could be seen for years.
This is the second article featured from
“G’ma Garn’s Album of Memories”, an autobiography written by
Helen Garn.
Born in 1914, Helen
grew up in Wexford County, south of Cadillac, Michigan. She attended Country Normal teacher’s college in Cadillac and
began teaching in 1933, retiring 44 years later after teaching in
seven different schools.
Now widowed, she lives in
a retirement community in Arbor Springs, Michigan.
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Educator,
Historian and MORSA Charter Board Member Passes
Joe Henry Kilpatrick died March 6, 2000 at his
home in Grawn, Michigan, just southwest of Traverse City.
He was born in Traverse City on May 24, 1926.
Joe was a veteran of the 78th
Army Air Force and was stationed in the south pacific during World
War II. He was the son
of Jesse Earl and Hazel (Aldrich) Kilpatrick of Traverse City.
He was preceded in death by his
parents; His sister Maureen Wyatt; brother Jesse (Pat) Kilpatrick;
and his stepmother, Agalla (Grellick) Kilpatrick.
He was married to JoAnn (Slladke) Kilparich for the past 20
years.
Receiving his master’s degree from
Michigan State University, Joe was a well-known educator and local
historian of Traverse City. His
love of the community is demonstrated through the many organizations
he participated in throughout his lifetime.
Included in these accomplishments is the Rotary club, Boy
Scouts of America and Civic Players.
Joe taught at Central High School in
1963, and was appointed superintendent / principal of Cherry Knoll
School the same year. During
his years as superintendent / principle, he advocated for new
methods of teaching so that all children would be able to learn at
their own pace. During
his years at Cherry Knoll he was appointed by Governor Milliken to
head up the Environmental Education Task Force
Joe participated in the MEA and the NEA.
During his teaching at Central high
school Joe was instrumental in starting the Gifted and Talented
Program. He
‘retired’ in 1988, the same year he was honored as ‘Teacher of
the Year’ by his fellow educators.
Even after his retirement he remained a member of the
Curriculum Advisory board of the Traverse City Public Schools.
He set up teacher training programs for science and
social studies.
During this time he developed his ‘History in a Trunk’
and local lumbering programs touring elementary schools.
He was a member of the National Science Teachers Association,
and was an instructor for the Senior Academy NMC Extended Education
Program.
During the last decade he became a
well-known figure in Traverse City.
He was past president of the Grand Traverse Pioneer and
Historical Society, founder and president of the Grand Traverse
Archeological Society and member of the Railroad Historical Society
of Northern Michigan. As
a charter board member of the Michigan One-Room Schoolhouse
Association, he specialized in researching and documenting regional
one-room schools.
In 1998, he was voted ‘Historian of
the Year’ and was Grand Marshall for the Cherry Festival Heritage
Parade.
Never being able to keep his love of
the community and learning to himself, Joe began his famous history
walks of Traverse City. As
an extension of these walks, Joe began his ‘History on Wheels’
program of Old mission Peninsula.
His diligent research of local history made these walks a
favorite of tourists and local citizens.
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He was
recently employed by Con Foster Museum and was instrumental in the
organization and planning of the new Grand Traverse Heritage Center.
In his ‘spare’ time, he volunteered
at the Traverse City Opera House, Festival of Trains, Cherry
Festival, VFW bingo, Heritage Days at the Con Foster Museum and did
history talks at local nursing homes.
He was also a prominent figure at the thrashing machine or as
the stationmaster during the Buckley Old Engine Shows.
His hobbies included gardening,
photography, genealogy, camping, reading and traveling in the United
States.
Just prior to Joe’s death, a short
story he had written became published in the book ‘Looking Over My
Shoulder: Reflections of the 20th Century”.
He will be greatly missed by his loving
family. He is survived
by his wife, JoAnn, children and numerous family members.
A celebration of his life was held
Saturday, March 11, at the Renolds-Jonkhoff Funeral Home in Traverse
City. Rabbi Stacie Fine
officiated.
Members
of the Michigan One-Room Schoolhouse Association wish to express
condolences to Joe Kilparick’s family and express our gratitude
for the many hours of service, fellowship and inspiration he
provided our organization.
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