THROUGH
MOUNTAIN MISTS
Early Settlers of
Their
Descendants...Their Stories...Their Achievements
Lifting the
Mists of History on Their Way of Life
By: Ethelene Dyer Jones
The Country
School and Christmas
My first seven years of school
were spent
at
My primer-first grade class was
the very
first to occupy the new school building in 1936-1937. We were proud of
the
smell of newly placed pine lumber that ceiled the inside of the
building. We
were fascinated by the removable partitions between the "lower
grades" room and the "upper grades" room. And on special
occasions, that partition was removed, a moveable stage was put in
place, and
all we young scholars who studied in grades primer through seventh
grade were
ready to perform on that stage before our parents and others in the
community.
Christmas was one of those times.
In my growing-up years,
Christmas was a
very special time. Compared to the glitter and commercialization of our
present
age, what we enjoyed and considered special treats would be meager,
indeed. But
we celebrated in our own way, and within the walls of that two-room,
two-teacher
country school much joy emanated to the whole community.
Remembering, the first item on
the
Christmas preparation agenda was "assigning of parts." Our teachers-
in this case, Mrs. Mert Shuler Collins who had the lower grades, and
Mrs.
Florence Jackson Hunter, principal and upper grades instructor, were
the
teachers in charge. They drew from their magic cache of Christmas
program
materials- whether written by themselves or from some "Christmas
Celebrations" book- "parts" were assigned to every child in their
care. No one could be left out of the glorious Christmas program.
The upper grades had "the play."
This was a mini-drama, much rehearsed and prepared with necessary
make-do
costumes and props. Each child memorized lines until they became a part
of his/her
repertoire. The play was a little slice of life, teaching character
traits of
hospitality and generosity and decrying selfishness. It was an honor to
be
chosen for a part in the school drama and each actor/actress took
seriously the
part assigned.
The lower grades had the usual
acrostic in
which each child held letters spelling out messages like C-H-R-I-S-T-MA
S C-H-E-E-R or H-A-P-P-Y
H-O-L-I-D-A-Y-S.
The two lines of the poem
forming the
acrostic were all the little ones had to memorize. They were taught how
to hold
their letter straight, so that the visitors could readily read the
message they
spoke about. Those who could handle more than a two-line recitation
were given
longer poems, or a story about Christmas to recite.
All the grades together
practiced singing
Christmas carols. We didn't have a piano at the school, so the "tune"
was formed by listening to a tuning fork held gingerly by one of the
teachers
and blown upon to give the proper pitch for each carol. We sang with
gusto and
joy, albeit it not always in tune. It wasn't perfection of performance
but
melody and message for which we strived.
Then came the drawing of names.
This was
when each class exchanged names, and the responsibility lay with the
student to
bring a present to the person whose name was drawn. What about some of
the very
poor children who might not be able to afford to buy a present? Looking
back, I
see now that we all were "poor," monetarily speaking, but we didn't
know it for we had food, clothing and shelter. Somehow, my parents, and
those
of other students, managed to get a meager gift for the "name drawn."
I wasn't aware of what went on behind the scenes then, but I've learned
since
that the teachers always provided "emergency" gifts for any who were
not able to get a gift for their "name drawn" person. That way,
everyone in the school was assured a gift.
The week before school was out
for
Christmas, and the day of the big Christmas program, we spent much time
and
effort making decorations. The older boys went to the nearby woods and
cut a
well-shaped pine tree for a Christmas tree. In our "art" classes, we
had been making colored paper chains to decorate the tree. We also
strung
popcorn and holly berries. We made snowflakes, cut from paper and
fastened them
to the tree. Our school tree would not take a prize in beauty in a
decorating
contest. But in joy of creating something which we thought beautiful,
our room
decorations rated high marks, indeed. Each window was decorated with a
construction-paper candle, snowman, or laughing Santa. Our school house
was
ready for visitors.
Then came the day of the big
performance.
We had the two rooms, now opened into one large one, set for our
visitors, our
parents and others in the community. A sense of nervous anticipation
pervaded
the students. Could we pull off this program and please our teachers
and our
parents?
We had no need for concern.
Whatever we did
was appreciated and applauded.
And when it came time to
distribute
presents, whatever we received brought smiles and pleasure. A bag with
an
apple, an orange, some wrapped candy kisses- and pencils, always
pencils with
our names on them- came from our teachers. The play, the recitations
and the
caroling all went well. The wood heaters had put out too much heat with
the school
rooms overcrowded with people. But everyone left happy and elated.
Christmas had come again to
c2007 by
Ethelene Dyer
Jones; published Dec. 6, 2007 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville,
GA.
Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
[Ethelene Dyer
Jones is a retired educator,
freelance writer, poet, and historian. She may be reached at
e-mail edj0513@windstream.net;
phone 478-453-8751; or mail 1708 Cedarwood Road, Milledgeville, GA
31061-2411.]
Updated August 8,
2009
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