School's Out

Field Trip To Houston

8" x 10"

pencil

"School's out! School's out! Teacher let the mules out!"

Shouts rang out and echoed all through the three story school building, all the way down the sidewalk, and down Burnett Street, all the way to homes and downtown as soon as the final bell rang at Calvert High. Everyone waited quietly, hearts pounding with excitement, waiting to hear that ear-splitting bell ring for the last time of the year.

It was hot, as if Mother Nature knew that, when school was out, it was summer, no matter what officials who made up the calendar said.

Teachers worked quitely, sorting papers, while the students sat at their desks, still not allowed to talk.

When that bell finally did ring, there was just a moments hesitation as students wondered if the teacher would insist on dismissing them that day, as usual, or would it be okay to just break out and run.

It didn't take long for the flood of papers, kept so carefully during the year, to line the street, all the way from the front door of the school to town. (Of course, some people were proud of their work and kept it in their notebooks, and others were just plain scared to make a mess like that!)

People who lived in the houses along the street didn't look forward to this last day and the mess that they were left with in their yards.

George and the trash truck would soon come along and George would be sweeping with his wide broom, collecting the paper and throwing it into the back of the big, rounded truck. Of course, since he was also the janitor at school, he would be left to clean all that up, too. But, he always did it quietly, and with a little smile, just tolerating all those kids over the years.

With only one older man to take care of the school building, the grounds, and collect trash for the town, it's amazing to think how clean and well kept everything was.

Since he was older, and they probably couldn't get anyone else to do as much for as little pay as they gave George, I think that his afternoon naps down in the boiler room, were also tolerated.

During the time of WWII, wasting anything was not good, and paper, like everything else was used wisely, and recycled for the War Effort. There probably was not the ritual blizzrd of throwing all the year's school work to the wind after the final bell, during those years. Since I was in elementary school then, we didn't have a massive build up of papers that we had to keep all year, like we did in classes like Mrs. Brannon's English class in high school.

From the other side of the desk, the teachers would be just as anxious for that last bell as the students, but they couldn't show it. (Although I have known teachers who evacuated the building as fast as, or even ahead of, the students!) Usually, though, they had more days of work ahead of them, winding up the year and getting ready for the next.

The above drawing is from my sketchbook, and shows one trip that I took to the Houston Zoo with my oldest grandson's class a few years back. His teacher sat behind me, sideways, and talked to the teacher across the aisle from her. (Good thing that the bus didn't have to stop suddenly or she might have been in the floor, or in the front through the windshield!)

I thought that trip might make a good little story. The little boy across the aisle from me spent most of the trip, staring at me, except for the time that he fell asleep.

One thing that stands out in my mind about that trip was how miserably hot it was on the, supposedly, air conditioned buses. It was like a steam bath in there. We finally opened some windows to get a little air, but the bus driver told us not to do that. Some of us toward the back cheated and kept the window open a crack to get a little fresh air. Everyone was miserable. A lot of kids took a nap, with sweat dampening their hair. I thought I was going to pass out! The air conditioning only seemed to be putting out humidity, like one of those water cooled fans that we used to have. (Didn't work too well in our high humidity!) I think they had the temperature set, really high. The bus driver's area seemed comfortable, but the rest of the bus was not.

The picture shows how it was in the morning, on the way to the city, before it got so terribly hot.

I hope that you have some good field trip memories, and some good memories from school, especially fresh ones, if you are winding up your school year.

For this year, I remember getting up early to make breakfast for my grandson as the sun rose, then started painting after I wished him well and he rushed off to school that day.

I remember struggling to make decent French Toast, and burning cinnamon toast, and undercooking regular toast. We tried oatmeal and various things, until there was a period when he didn't want to eat anything in the morning. He was too nervous about going off to school.

There were nights of listening to him read and discussing stories with him, of sitting with him while he wrote multiplication tables and spelling words, or filled out papers, and of going over cards with famous artists and information about them as he prepared for Picture Memory at UIL. I thought that it might help if I wrote those multiplication tables with him, so I wrote them too. ( I still have to look up some of them! I'll never learn those things! My system of counting dots, which formed shapes or patterns, got me through.)

Sometimes children remember by hearing things, so I tried to be sure that he heard things, as well as being able to see them.

There were nights of working on special projects, more recently of making a poster and doing research about George Washington and looking for pictures of people in my grandson's family who looked like him. (Good thing that I have scanned all these family pictures as I work on family history or he wouldn't have had any family pictures to take to school!)

He was excited to get the recorder in music class, that they will use next year, and listen to him play the notes of the first song that they learned, "Hot Cross Buns".

There was anticipation of the 4th grade music program of Celtic music, just after St. Patrick's Day, that we looked forward to for months.

And looking at all those papers that he brought home each day, and going over them with him. Of hearing about the HOSTS person that met with him and looking at the stamps and stickers that my grandson got with him.

And hearing about their field trips to Sam Houston's home in Huntsville, and the symphony at A&M.

I've tried to sit with him, and let him talk , and reassure him, about his uncertainty about going to school each day. (I was like that too, I guess.) We've looked for good things and friends.

I saw the disappointment in him when the school had the students sell things, and he couldn't participate. And that's a sore spot with me. Having children go out and sell junky items to make money for the school is just a no-no. So unfair to kids who don't have anyone to sell to, who don't have money, and it's also dangerous. Many people just don't have the money to buy that sort of thing. The school should be providing the money for the students. If they belong to an organization that wants to do something like a bake sale at a store, that is one thing. Working as a group is okay, for some club, but putting out prizes that kids can't possibly earn is really wrong.

We don't buy those things ourselves, and don't know anyone who will. And, he is not allowed to just go around to strangers and try to sell them something. So, it is an impossible situation.

Adminstrators could do with less fancy offices and equipment, and lower pay, and that sort of thing, or they should do their jobs and go out and find the money that they need for the schools and the children.

We have ended another year when the students didn't learn to write. The teachers don't have time to teach those necessary skills because they are too busy with the TAKS test. So, I plan to be teaching calligraphy/handwriting this summer. That is the same method that we used to learn to write. And high school and college teachers wonder why kids can't write! It shouldn't be left to the parents to teach children how to write. Many of them can't do it, or don't have the time. But, it looks like that is the only way that kids are going to learn how to write, these days.

Hope that you have some wonderful plans for summer, which starts tomorrow here!

With high prices on everything, a lot of people may do what we do , this year. Stay at home and try to keep costs down! I can always find a lot to do around home. Just as long as we have plenty of paper, pencils, some glue, colors, paint, and the internet!

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Reminder:

Look at my sidebar to see some upcoming events. The Texas Scottish Festival is right around the corner. And, we're thinking ahead to the 19th World Wide Sketch Crawl on Saturday June 21!

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Spring Shadows

Spring Shadows

8" x 8.5"

Ink

Shadows on my door,

Bobbing in and out.

Curves that show

That you are here,

Working in this space.

This time.

This place.

Making my flower bed

A much prettier place.

Don't ruin it with shouting,

Crude words that will hurt.

Keep smiling and laughing,

Be happy in your work.

Shadows are soft,

Fluid, and curving.

Darting in,

Pulling back.

Pushing brooms,

Scattering earth,

Placing rocks,

And tiny shoots.

Weeds, be gone!

We'll soon be seeing

The very loveliest of flowers.

All because of you.....

The Shadows.

It was one of those warm spring mornings when the place to be was outside, either doing something or just lying in a reclining chair in the sun. But here we were in a classroom. I worked at my desk, and students were absorbed in their projects. At least we had windows to look out of and a door that opened out onto a sidewalk and courtyard.

Birds nested under the eaves and that was something to watch as the days wore on, with everyone ready for school to end. Cloud formations, the changing light during the day, cars coming and going in the parking lot, and people passing by on the sidewalk, even birds with their antics on the grass drew attention.

I looked toward the open door, and watched the rhythmic shadows, writhing about on the white background. Distortion masked who the shadow belonged to. Low voices outside and an occasional youthful laugh combined with the sharp scraping and chopping of tools in the earth of the flowerbeds.

A student beautification project included planting flowers in the flower beds to replace the low shrubs that had frozen and died during one harsh winter cold spell a few years back.

As the shadows writhed and bobbed on the door, I did a quick gesture drawing to remember the day.

Soon, they moved on to another room and on down the sidewalk, their jobs finished. They would be back to give water to the new plants. But the shadows would not be there.

Later, I filled in my drawing with ink to make a silhouette, which is the way the shadows appeared. The words about the shadows on my door stuck in my head and I had to write them down .

I couldn't see the students without going to the door and looking outside, but I could watch their shadows while they worked. It almost seemed as if shadow figures were planting shadow flowers.

With the full moon, I probably should plant something. I've had some seeds for a few years, but I never can remember to plant them with the moon, as I've always heard that you should. I wonder if they will come up. With my lack of a green thumb, they probably will do very little, if I can remember to get those seeds out before the moon goes dark!

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The Flute Section

The Flute Section (sketch)
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Tonight is a big night, especially in this area of Texas, and other places too. This is the night of the first football game of the school year. Teams have new suits and equipment, and have practiced and been pumped up-ready for the opening game. Pep rallies have taken place. The band, dance teams, flag corps have worked on their routines and readied their costumes for their debut. Parents and fans anxiously wait to see their students take part in the rituals of the game. Coaches may tend to pace and chew their nails. Teachers are busy with their duties as sponsors of organizations, or in their duties of working the gate or patrolling to make sure that there are no problems in the stands. And school related organizations are ready to sell their wares and make a little money for this school year.
"The Flute Section" is a sketch I did, remembering our little group in the band hall, four flutes, and the band director, concentrating on the music and the young musicians in front of him. Of course, there were others behind us, on the other side of the director, and to our right in front of the director. This drawing began as we were getting ready for our high school reunion this past June.
We were fortunate to have an excellent band director. When he came to our school, our band went from about 19 to 60 members. He was young, and the girls thought he was cute, so the band grew. Later, he went on to become a long time director of the Texas Aggie band at Texas A&M University. And, of course, they have always had a fantastic military style band. We weren't that good, but we had some outstanding training over our years as part of the Calvert High Trojan band.
My friend and neighbor, Edie, who I shared school supplies with in an earlier post, also played flute and was always one chair, and a grade, ahead of me. Ruth Ann was one chair, and a grade, behind me, and Sandra followed her.
The school owned a beautiful wood and silver (like a clarinet or oboe) German flute. They obtained it from the POW camp that was located near the next town, Hearne, at the end of WWII as prisoners were being sent home. The school also had several other instruments that had belonged to prisoners. In fact, our band hall was one of the barracks that had been at the POW camp. Prior to that, the band had to meet in a small choir room or the cafeteria, with practice for programs on the auditorium stage, or on the football field.
The flute had the most wonderful tone and was so much easier to play than the silver flutes we all had.
The person who was first chair in the flute section got to play the German flute. Edie was first chair until she graduated. Then it was my turn. When she was a senior and I was a junior, she was out of school for the usual two weeks with the mumps, so I got to move up to first chair while she was sick.
I didn't want to go to school, so I always hoped to catch anything that came along. When there was an outbreak of mumps, I heard that you could catch them if you drank after someone who had mumps. There wasn't much opportunity for that. I didn't think that you could catch anything from playing an instrument, but I did. Edie returned and reclaimed the flute and first chair, when she was well. And, then it was my turn. I had the most horrible case of mumps! I was so swollen, I couldn't lift my head off the pillow for two weeks. My face and neck were even with my shoulders. But that was okay with me, although I was pretty miserable. I got to be at home for two whole weeks.
Edie graduated and went off to college, and I moved up to first chair my senior year. I was sure that I was playing much better with that special flute. Until then, I had been using my aunt's flute, that she had also used when she was in the Calvert High and Baylor University bands.
Still, I was shy, and didn't really want anyone to hear me or notice me. That was really hard when I had to sit on the outside row of the band. Before that, I could hide behind Edie. I didn't think I could read music very well either. But, I had this sort of gift, I guess you could call it. If I could hear the first note of something, I could play, or sing, the rest of the music, even if I had never heard it before. I would tell people to start me off, and away I would go with it. If it was a familiar first note, I was okay with it and could sound it out myself. But some things seemed like they were just blocked, to me. Sort of like math.
While my mother taught piano lessons, and I would sing with her in the choir and at home, I didn't take advantage of what she tried to teach me. I was more interested in other things, and didn't like the sound of a lone piano.
Graduation time came for me and I wanted to go to nursing school. But, at 16, I was too young. I was accepted, but had to wait until I was 18. Meanwhile, I went off to a teachers college, a place my family felt was acceptable for a young lady. The school offered to sell me the German flute, if I would be in the college band. Being shy, I wasn't sure about that, but I really wanted that flute. Daddy said I already had my aunt's flute that I could play, if I wanted to be in the band, and refused to pay the $20 for it. I thought I wasn't good enough to be in a college band, and didn't want to get in front of all those people, so I just went to school and tried not to be in anything. (They wouldn't let that happen, though. We had to go to everything!)
As I was going off to college, my high school English teacher talked to me on Main Street one day. She asked what I was going to major in. I didn't know what that meant. She told me that she thought I should major in Art, since I was always drawing instead of doing my work, and minor in English. She also advised me to not let anyone borrow anything of mine. She said I would end up without even face powder or ink of my own if I let others start borrowing my things. So, at registration, I told the people at the desks that I would major in Art and minor in English, and they entered that on my paperwork. I still wasn't sure what it meant! And my classmates thought I was a really stingy person because, when anyone wanted to use my bottle of ink to refill their pen, or borrow a sheet of paper, I said "No", and pulled all my things close to me. I kept a close watch on all my things. My $5 a week allowance would not go far if I had to replace my personal things.
Anyway, there were some tense times in the flute section, when the band director would get mad at students who didn't play a passage correctly, had not practiced, or were talking and giggling. Band directors could certainly be temperamental, but nice, and even fun, at other times. Although we were practically sitting under his nose, we would still take every opportunity to share our dreams and our secrets. We didn't think he could hear, but I'll bet he heard some interesting things. Hopefully he was, as we thought, engrossed in his music and not listening to our little girl secrets.
My little sister played saxaphone and sat behind us, when she got in band, and my boyfriend all through school days, played trombone, and also sat behind the flute section. My cousin, Doris, who was in my class, played French horn, and was seated to my right, facing the director.
We had some interesting experiences as members of the band. There were trips such as the ones to march in the Houston Fat Stock Show parade. (A couple of times, we got to see Roy Rogers and Dale Evans up close, when they were in the parade. I distinctly remember that we all tried to stay in line, but had to march around Trigger's poop in the street. Roy and Dale were carrying coat hangers with western shirts into the arena as we were in formation, waiting on the parade to start.) We went to Baylor University in Waco for band contest, and we went to the Trojan football games to march and play during the game.
There was snuggling up under quilts when it was cold and being miserable from itchy wool uniforms when the weather was hot. And watching the couples smooch during ball games as they parked under the bleachers, thinking no one would see them there. The band did. But, I learned to tie a tie, which helped me even recently when I had to tie my grandson's tie! And we marched, and learned discipline, and had to face our fears of performing in front of people. It was easier when we were with a group of our friends who we saw daily.
Shannon P. Husbands has a lovely flute drawing today on her blog, M.E. Art. It made me think of the days when I played flute. Can't do that anymore. After a certain age, I guess, the lips just won't cooperate anymore. My daughter also played flute for a while and we still have that flute.
I tried to get a group together, when I was teaching, of people in the community who had enjoyed being in band in their younger days. The band director helped us and met with us to direct on Sunday afternoons. That was fun. We hoped to practice enough to give concerts in the park or go to nursing homes. But, the band director left, and the following directors didn't want to give up their Sunday afternoons. And, for a while, there was a shortage of band directors and the school didn't have anyone to fill that position.
There is a new high school here named for General Earl Rudder. The school won't be finished until next year, but they had their first football game last night! They're getting an early start on school spirit and traditions. Students are attending classes at the existing high school until the school is ready. They already have faculty and staff and all is ready, except for the building. Rudder's Rangers won their first game, 45-0.
Good luck to all the teams, and everyone involved, tonight. It is a big night in Texas, and many other towns in America.
Besides the time when I was in the band, I think the time that I most enjoyed football games, was when my grandson played, or when we had games at home in the yard, and when, as an elderly lady, I was out on the field, among the kids, taking pictures for the yearbook and newspaper. That was interesting since I had not had the opportunity to look at things from the same viewpoint as the players. I had seen what the field looked like as a member of the band.
There was a film clip on the Texas A&M band in which it looked like you were marching behind someone in the band. That brought back memories.
As for that beautiful German flute, I heard that it was destroyed when it came into contact with a football helmet at a game after I went away to college. I've never seen another one like it. But, in looking for German flutes, I've found some flutes that are made of things like clay and even glass. I thought it might be neat to try to make a flute from clay. A glass flute sounds interesting, but that's something I have never tried to work with.

The First Day

The First Day

Covering Books

8.5" x 11"

pencil

We came home from school after that first day, loaded down with books, book covers, and our supplies. We didn't really have complaints of aching feet, but, often, there were blisters from those new shoes. (Tired, aching feet and legs came about the time of student teaching and later.)

We had listened to our teachers, some of whom had taught our partents, looked dreamily at the new young male teachers and wondered why a nice looking young female teacher would ever want to be a teacher. We looked at what our friends were doing, and wearing, wondered what we would wear to school the next day, checked out the other students in study hall or in our class to see if there might be someone new who might be cute and a possible boyfriend. But, no, it was pretty much the same, silly boys, year after year. We would have to go out of town to look for more mature, and cute, boys.

I looked out the window, no matter what side of the school we were on, and wished I were at home. I tried to listen, but that only lasted for so long. Soon, I was watching clouds, formations of airplanes as they flew over, the flag waving, my great-aunt sitting on her porch snapping peas or working in her yard, Mama and Bertie washing and hanging clothes on the clothesline in the back yard, and Daddy driving up the street from town to eat dinner. Paper and pencil would come out to write, or books to read from, but I started out writing, with two sheets of paper, one on top of the other. I drew girls or movies, on the bottom sheet, and slid it under my work when the teacher would approach. When the teacher stood by my desk, I pretended to be thinking really hard about my work.

Back at home at the end of the day, I got a drink of water, played with my cats a little, then lugged the books and supplies over to my friend's house next door. There, we spread out on the floor in her parent's bedroom, and covered our books with the brown paper covers with store advertising and sports schedules printed on them. My friend's covers always fit perfectly while mine were not quite right. One side would be too loose, one side so tight the books wouldn't close, or they would be off center . We didn't have Scotch tape as part of our supplies but we used white paste in a small jar, or, some years, we made our own with flour and water. Supplies were fairly simple. Scissors, two pencils, a box of crayons, or colored pencils if we were doing maps that year, a fountain pen and a bottle of ink. A tablet in lower grades, a notebook with notebook paper in later years. A protractor and compass were signs that students were now old enough to take Geometry. There were no backpacks, calculators, pencil bags, ball point pens, watercolors, or poster board for students. Some years, we had a cigar box to put our loose supplies in, that were obtained from any store where they sold cigars. We just had to ask. Later, there were wooden cigar boxes, which were really nice, but much heavier to have to carry around.

I thought I was really grown up when I got to have a blue cloth covered notebook and could use a fountain pen rather than pencil. As soon as books were covered, and notebook paper had been inserted in the notebook, names were put on the book covers. We thought we were really "slick" when we reversed the book covers, to show the plain side, and then wrote names all over those covers. Then we used fountain pen and ink to write names on the outside of the blue cloth notebooks. Those were added to all year or until the notebook fell apart and we had to get a new one. The teachers were not happy with our decorated book covers, though, and made us put on new covers, the correct way.

Now, I wonder why none of us ever thought to decorate those book covers with pictures or designs. We only copied each other in writing names on our books. (Never inside, though, except on the correct line inside the cover.) We didn't have art, and I don't remember but one other person doing any art work when we were in school. She had decided she wanted to be an artist, at one point. But, I don't recall ever seeing any art work that she did. We did have coloring books though.

My mother drew and painted, but she stopped when I was born, and didn't take art up again until I was a bit older. I wasn't exposed to drawing or art work at home, particularly, but I drew anyway. I thought of it as an escape, others looked at my drawing as something I was interested in.

We were taught to cherish and care for books and materials. We didn't dare put a mark in the school books, or even get a tear in the cover. It was really hard for me to use a highlighter or mark passages in the books I bought in later years. I still don't like to do that.

Of course, this was around the time of WWII, and there was a either a shortage or rationing of almost everything, including paper. War time followed the Depression, so people were still conserving and saving, trying to recover from those hard times.

The cost, as well as the way books are used and cared for today, have changed quite a bit. I still remember the anticipation of using that new package of notebook paper in the decorated notebook, of adding more names to my notebook and book covers, of dipping the fountain pen in ink and filling it, of going to the pencil sharpener for the first time and standing in line to sharpen my two pencils, the feel of paste on my fingers as I spread it on the corners of the book covers, and of wondering who I might have to sit by in class.

I don't have books to cover anymore, but I do have a notebook, with a fresh package of notebook paper to write on, when the notion strikes me. And, I have a grandson, to keep up with school work.

I have added a counter to my blog page. I thought it might be interesting to see where people are when they view my blog. I had seen that on several blogs and finally found how to add that on artist Nancy Standlee's ( Arlington, Texas) blog.

I hope that first day excitement and enthusiasm continues for you, and that tired feet recover soon. And, for others, I hope you get back into the rhythm of getting up early and sending the family off to school, and all the other schedules and rules that revolve around school.