My first grade teacher was Mrs. Mary McCullah in 1920 or 21. I played hooky until Mother found out about it. After a good dose of hickory tea, I liked school much better. At one school ‘breaking’ (sic) when I was 5 years old, I recited the following poem (author unknown):

“ When I was just a little lad and had my feeling hurt,
I used to hide my wounded pride behind my mother’s skirt.
The little boys and girls today are up against it right,
The skirts today are such that they don’t hide the mothers quite.”

    I remember using a schoolhouse door to carry Lloyd Smith home after he had fallen out of a tree. I remember playing marbles, roll-a-hole, shinny games (stick and can), hoop rolling, mountain roving, fox and hounds, possum hunts and sunrise breakfasts. I remember being adopted by half the families and dreaded by the other half. Time has erased most of the bad memories and left the good: good friends, good times, and a good life.

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