Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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OBSERVATIONS OF A FIFTH GRADER As I sat in my 5th grade seat (they’d had to pass me last year ’cause it was my second time in the 4th grade) I watched Miss Johnson, our new teacher for the day, who had just graduated from the state university. I had heard Dad say she was chuck full of child sicology” but I couldn’t see nothin’ funny-looking about her. She stood in front of the room wearing what the poster in the domestic science room said a well-dressed teacher or secretary should wear. Her hair was done up kinda plain with no high falutin’ hot dog rolls on top and her lipstick looked like what the poster called well ap- plied”. Her smile looked a lot like Mum’s did when Dad surprised her by bringin’ home one of his men friends for supper. The teacher made us a speech and I decided she wan t so bad ’cause she said she didn’t believe in givin kids lick- ins. I could see her eyes movin’ all around the room look- ing at all the kids. She stopped awhile on me, so I guessed she’d found out I wan’t the smartest in the class. Funny how all the new teachers seemed to know that right off. She got to the sixth grade row and her eyes stopped again, this time on Red. Red looked kinda funny so I kncwcd (I guess it’s knowed, I ain’t much good on gram- mar) he was up to somethin’ again. I looked around for a tack on her seat but I couldn’t seen none. Naw, Red was too smart for a trick like that. It would be a better one. The teacher sat down. Pretty soon she said that we’d better have some exercises and acted as if she was going to get up. A funny look came on her face, but she tried to get up again. Maybe she’d had a shock. My grand- mother had one once when she was sitting on a chair and she never got up again. I guessed it couldn’t be that be- cause grandma’s face had been awful white and teacher’s was kinda red. The teacher told us to go out to recess. (I guess she’d changed her mind about the exercises.) 13

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 I want you to write a composition for tomorrow.” How we hate to hear those words. After writing 6000 compo- sitions in the last six years, it’s the same old story—no ideas, no nothing. This is the last period in the afternoon and I never feel like working because school will be out in exactly 32 min- utes, and how those minutes drag. I look around the room and see Hunt scratching his ear and working very hard, Harry Bickford reading some digest, and behind us Everett Dargie writing with his new $1.00 fountain pen that sounds like a mowing machine. I can also see Stearns digging away on geometry. How can they work so hard in the last period, or look as if they were, anyway? Here I am just sitting here trying to think. Dargie just got up to sharpen his pencil and he tripped over my foot. Clumsy lout! I’ve been thinking now for seven minutes and school will be out in 2 5 minutes. If I don’t hurry I won’t get my composition done. Gosh, I can’t get over how quiet this study hall is. It’s not this way very often. Some- thing’s wrong. Maybe I can go to sleep. The sun shines into the study hall and it makes me drowsy. No, I guess I won’t tr 7 it Oh well! Twenty minutes to go. Looking around the room I see I’m not the only one taking it easy, for others now are looking around. I did- n’t think this industry would last long. It makes me feel better to know I m not the only one not working. Hunt just turned around and spoke to Stearns. I wonder what he said? Well! Harry Bickford’s got an- other magazine to read. That’s an idea. Maybe I should get one and forget compositions for a while. u teTamS jYSt quit Work and Picked UP a comic book. Maybe I can think up something to write about tomorrow and read a magazine myself for the last five minutes. •Lust the thing Scholastic Magazine, page 21, Boy Dates Girl section! —Robert Normand ’45 12

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I got out the door second. (Red was always first), I thought it was going to be last one to the big tree was it” for Pump, Pump, Pull Away”, but Red didn’t go to the tree; he went to the window near the teacher’s desk. I followed him and looked in too. Boy, was that teacher actin’ funny. She kept jumping up as if she was going to get up out of her seat but never got off. Finally she made it but there was a tear in the back of her dress like I made in my Sunday pants the time I jumped over the Mallette’s fence. Her face was red and she looked pretty mad. Red did too and then I knowed what for ’cause he said, Dang it all, guess I didn’t put enough glue on ’cause it said on the bottle 'guaranteed to stick’.” After awhile Miss Johnson called us in and we had to do some arithmetic. Well, we got through that and start- ed in on English. We had to write a poem, so I wrote this one: We have a new teacher, just for today, I don t blame the old one for staying away. Going to school’s an awful bother, Pop said I’d never be a scholar. Henry Aldrich” and That Brewetsr Boy” Seem to have a lot of joy. People laugh at all their fun, Why can’t they laugh when I am dumb? While I’ve been writing this poem the teacher’s been talking with Red. She asked him about the gl ue and he said he done it ’cause he knowed she wouldn’t give him no lickin’. She said she’d see him after school and he ain’t talked back so I guess he wants to see what she’ll do. Teacher ain’t turned around since recess. She ain’t even written the best poem on the board like she said she would. Guess she couldn’t fix her dress like Maw fixed my pants. (The tear don’t hardly show.) Miss Johnson is goin’ to open the top drawer for the book our reg’lar teacher is reading us. I’m getting kinda excited ’cause Red looks funny again. Oh boy! the teacher’s standin’ on her desk and her dress ain’t fixed as good as my pants are. The mouse just ran down the aisle 14