McQueeney Easter

The signatures at the bottom are, respectively, the First, Second, and Third Grade teachers: Edith Roberts, Sandra Wunderlich (nee Nawotny, when I had her) and Mary I. Davenport.

First Grade School Books 1969

 

Now, whether this miraculously-surviving reading list dates from the last half of Mike's first year of school or from the first half of my first year of school is a moot point. It scarcely matters, because it probably hadn't changed much. McQueeney used texts from the Forties to the Sixties; big themes then were the suburban family, the cowboy/frontier legacy, and of course the ever-popular animal adventures (both tame and wild). I have fond if vague memories of the Woodland Frolics Series; there is actually a copy of "Chippy Chipmunk's Vacation", a number in the series, in the family archives.

But the story I really, really remember is "The Straw Ox", from the "I Know a Story" reader. I already loved "The Wizard of Oz" from the movie; I think I recognized a relation here in the straw ox that the old couple builds and covers with tar and sets out in the field to graze. Various wild animals attack the ox and get caught in the tar and must pay the penalty before the couple releases them. Rather like the Tar Baby, but the Straw Ox was actually alive and could speak. I learned later that it is an old Russian fairy tale.

I was surprised and pleased that I was able to find pictures of all these books.  Whether "Story Fun" is actually "Fun in Story" written in teacherly short hand is a sticky point, but "Fun in Story" is the only reader I can find close to it.

A Boy Alone

I cried my first day of school. 

Looking back, there were several reasons for that. For one thing, I had never gone to kindergarten. I suppose that is where most children get over the shock of abandonment into an unfamiliar environment. Many of the other students were old hands at this sort of thing already, and later were not slow to express their scorn at my babyish behavior.

For another thing, I was used to having a family support group, to running in a pack with my brothers, to being a follower rather than an independent unit of my own. True, Mike was in the Second Grade right next to me, but once class started he might as well have been on the moon. I was on my own.

And my teacher was an unknown quantity. I was used to hearing about Mike’s First Grade teacher, Mrs. Bilnitzer, but she had been moved to another class. Mrs. Roberts was an unknown quantity, who knew not of Babels and our ways, and we knew not hers. She was acting rather sternly, as any teacher having to wrangle little kids must be to start with, and I was taking it personally, and feeling the stress of having to learn class procedures correctly or being, for all I knew, “doomed”.

I was rescued from my emotional distress by the teacher’s aide, Mrs. Dammon, who came over to comfort me while Mrs. Roberts continued on with class instructions. Mrs. Dammon had a face as rough and kind and comforting as an oatmeal raison cookie, always smiling. She wore black cat-eye glasses, which I found funny and distracting. After a few moments I felt I had an ally in class and was able to settle down and apply myself to learning with renewed determination. But I think my behavior had been noted on my permanent record, in more ways than one.

McQueeney Elementary School: The Daily Routine

 

Introducing McQueeney Elementary School

 

[McQueeney As It Is Now and Wasn't Then]

Today, if you went looking for the McQueeney Elementary School that I went to, you wouldn’t find it. There’s a building there, of course, and under it you might still find the old bones of the institution as it was when I attended, but my McQueeney is gone. It was as much a time as a place.

“Though McQueeney Elementary School is part of Seguin ISD, it is not located in Seguin but in the lakeside resort area of McQueeney. The name of the area, according to E. John Gesick, Jr. author of Under the Live Oak Tree, was indirectly named by Mr. C.F. Blumberg. Mr. Blumberg built a store around 1900, which was less than a mile from a railroad stop. As the story goes, Mr. Blumberg decided to call the location of his store, McQueeney, after the Superintendent of the Lines. His hope was that Mr. McQueeney, would designate his store location as the new train stop, thereby promoting business for his store. The McQueeney store became the McQueeney community, and the school was indirectly named after the Superintendent of the Lines, Mr. McQueeney.” – from the McQueeney Elementary School “About Us”.

Since we were located closer to this lakeside resort community than we were to town, this was our school. And what an odd little pocket of a place it was.

Although I began First Grade in the very tail-end of the Sixties, the spirit of the school was firmly in the Fifties, if not the Forties, as you might well expect in a rural Texas area. The building itself was a rather plain brick construction, like a squared capital G without its arm. There were classrooms from First to Sixth Grade when I began, although by the time I was in the Fifth, the Sixth was going to be phased out, as a new middle school had been built. But we’ll get to that in time.  

Well, I'm Back ... ish

As most people will know, last week Texas was paralyzed with an usually long, deep period of cold and snow for our southern state. I was pretty much paralyzed myself, not only being kept in by the cold but being sore all over from my fall on an icy gutter even before the snow fell. And when the temperature got down into the teens, it was as if my brain froze.

Even on my best days I only have so much 'juice' (as I call my energy or gumption) to expend on my activities, whether it is writing or doing my daily chores. In my entries on "What Happened" I had simply been publishing what I had already written some years ago, and I ran out of that first chapter of my life just before the cold snap fell and was filling in with "Little Red Diary" entries. I had been poised to start talking about First Grade with new writing, and I hope to do so soon. But my 'juice' was required just to get through that freezing week. It didn't help that I cut my left thumb, and if you think that's a small thing, try not using your left thumb or getting it wet for even an hour.

For two days now we have had nice warm weather. Cleaning and clearing up has been well begun, and I'm feeling almost human again.  My thumb is getting a nice scar. I hope to begin writing again tomorrow, if not sooner. My scattered memories will take a bit of weaving but I hope as I apply myself they will come together into some kind of narrative. 

 

 

Too Bloomin' Cold

 

[Snow. February 8, 1973. Left to right: Kenny, Me, Mike, John]

I'm sorry, it's just too cold today to do anything. I mean, it's been in the low 20's all day, and for Texas that's pretty darn cold, especially since last week it was in the 70's, and it's predicted it will be down in the single digits next week. The temperature's bad enough, but with the freezing drizzle and the ice on the road, things are downright hazardous. Here in the lower end of the state we're not used to it and it usually takes us by surprise when it happens. My brain feels frozen, and all I want to do is hunker down. I should adjust to it by tomorrow morning, but for now ... just no.