I often dream of being back in the classroom. Circumstances are always different but the one constant is chaos. My conscious mind tells me that at these times I am trying to sort out some situation in my present life. I do not ever remember chaos in my classrooms , it was always orderly, often a quiet murmur was in the air of students busy with their tasks or working at their centers.
Some of the things I do remember happening which were not part of the murmur of busy students do come to mind. Once when the children were out playing one of the boys came down the slide head first and momentum kept him going into the ground below. He came up bloody as he had somehow gotten a tooth through his tongue ! This happened at a county school called Twila. The principal and I took him to the camp doctor and he fixed him up right away. Needless to say, from that day forward this child came down the slide in a seated position.
In that same school there was no central heat. By prior arrangement a big eighth grade boy would come to the classroom before anyone else was there and build a fire in our pot bellied stove. The children were accustomed to this kind of heat source and knew to keep a safe distance. Fortunately we never had a burnt hand or anything else. However this same fire builder was unhappy with me. He had a little brother in my class and something which I cannot remember caused him to approach me in a very belligerent way. I was no match for this big boy and would not have wanted to tangle with him. Some of the mountain people could be very aggressive if they felt they had been wronged. By using tact and diplomacy I was able to alleviate the situation and calm him down. I had never been approached in such a manner before and did not want to give him reason to return with intended harm toward me. That incident stands out as it was the only time such a thing had happened.
My last year in the county I was at a school in a mining camp called Chevrolet. I had a precious little blue eyed, blond haired boy named Paris. He came to school in immaculate overalls each day. I had never had such a talker before. It was impossible for him to not talk. It was a nervous condition I feel sure. His mother gave me some history about his condition which she thought had caused the constant talking. Of course his mother was protective regarding Paris but it was not possible for him to learn with this physical problem. His mother quite plainly told me it was my fault that he did not learn. She did not offer an explanation as to why all of the other children did learn !! I always felt sorry about this little boy. If at that time we had access to our modern day school techniques of testing children or doctors who could diagnose his medical condition perhaps he could have been helped. Since I was not back there again I do not know what happened to that beautiful little boy.
In this county where I taught we had a program for teachers which was under the auspices of the University of Maryland. It was voluntary and I attended a group meeting each week in the evening. The leader of the group was a former principal of mine when I was in junior high. Her name was Ruby Carter. We each selected one of our students to study for the year. We kept notes and shared anecdotes regarding this child. We would discuss these in our group in order to gain some insight into the behaviors which caused us to choose that child. This was all confidential and I found it interesting and informative. The child I chose was Paris. Whereas our county was progressive in this child study area there was no money for trained psychologists or special education teachers.
As all of this took place in the late 1940's and early 1950's it is understandable that more help was not available for this little boy. He will always have a place in my heart and also a deep regret that I could not help him. At the end of the year he had learned to recognize 9 words.
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