| General Non-Fiction posted September 29, 2023 |
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My freshman year
Country Bumpkin
by prettybluebirds
I found high school terrifying. After completing eighth grade in a one-room country school, I entered Shelby High School in 1960. An extremely shy girl by nature, I was overwhelmed by all the strange kids, teachers, and classes in different rooms. My grade school friends lived in the Hart School district, so I didn't have any of them to lean on. I was on my own and scared to death.
The town students had gone to Shelby Elementary together and formed friendships and social groups as they grew. They had no room for country bumpkins and looked down on us newbies as if we were inferior beings. It was a hurtful experience, but kids can be cruel without realizing the emotional pain they are causing. I met two girls, Sandy and Norma, from another country school, and we formed our little group, hanging out together and giving each other moral support.
Time passed, and while I still felt uncomfortable, I had some friends and was beginning to learn the ropes of attending a larger school. One thing that helped was the fact that I loved to write and found English class stimulating with the required essays and book reports. Of course, I was not too fond of the oral reports and spent many sleepless nights agonizing and wondering how I would survive the ordeals. Somehow, I managed to get through them.
At the end of the first semester, our English teacher, Mrs. Near, announced a school-wide essay about Michigan. One senior would win a scholarship to Michigan State University, but every student must participate. I heard a lot of groans and moans from some of my classmates, but it sounded exciting to me as it wasn't to be an oral report. I could hardly wait for study hall hour so I could go to the library and look up Michigan facts. There were no computers in those days.
I discovered fascinating facts about Michigan, but simply stating statistics seemed boring to me; besides, that's what everyone else would do. I decided to try something different and used a fox to tell my story. I began my story with a red fox standing at the edge of the woods with his paw lifted. I described the autumn trees of various species and colors that the fox was observing. I went on to tell of the fresh air the fox was scenting. Then I took the fox across the countryside and mentioned the freshwater streams and lakes as he came to them and the other animals, birds, and reptiles he met in his travels. I took him to a hill above a major city and let him tell me how it appeared to him and what he thought about it. The fox ended his journey on the sand dunes near Lake Michigan with a lovely description of rolling waves and a beautiful sunset. The essay contained over two thousand words written in cursive. I didn't own a typewriter or know how to type until I took a typing class in my sophomore year.
I was the first person in my class to hand in my essay. I gave it to Mrs. Near and hoped she wouldn't tell me it was terrible, and I had to do it over. She didn't look at it immediately, and it wasn't until she had us writing some lessons she gave us that she picked up my essay and began to read. I still recall her look of surprise. Then, Mrs. Near smiled at me, got out of her chair, and left the room with my story in her hand. I wondered how much trouble I was in.
As it turned out, my essay was declared the best in the school. Mrs. Near read it to the class as an example of thinking outside the box and using one's imagination to create essays uniquely. She also put the story in the school newspaper. Even though there were a few grammatical errors, Mrs. Near gave me an A-plus for originality. Of course, I didn't win the scholarship, which went to Jillene Lipps, the senior with the following best essay, but that was fine with me. Jillene had to stand before the entire school, read her writing, and thank the school for her college scholarship. I was glad it was her and not me.
High School Memories contest entry
I found high school terrifying. After completing eighth grade in a one-room country school, I entered Shelby High School in 1960. An extremely shy girl by nature, I was overwhelmed by all the strange kids, teachers, and classes in different rooms. My grade school friends lived in the Hart School district, so I didn't have any of them to lean on. I was on my own and scared to death.
The town students had gone to Shelby Elementary together and formed friendships and social groups as they grew. They had no room for country bumpkins and looked down on us newbies as if we were inferior beings. It was a hurtful experience, but kids can be cruel without realizing the emotional pain they are causing. I met two girls, Sandy and Norma, from another country school, and we formed our little group, hanging out together and giving each other moral support.
Time passed, and while I still felt uncomfortable, I had some friends and was beginning to learn the ropes of attending a larger school. One thing that helped was the fact that I loved to write and found English class stimulating with the required essays and book reports. Of course, I was not too fond of the oral reports and spent many sleepless nights agonizing and wondering how I would survive the ordeals. Somehow, I managed to get through them.
At the end of the first semester, our English teacher, Mrs. Near, announced a school-wide essay about Michigan. One senior would win a scholarship to Michigan State University, but every student must participate. I heard a lot of groans and moans from some of my classmates, but it sounded exciting to me as it wasn't to be an oral report. I could hardly wait for study hall hour so I could go to the library and look up Michigan facts. There were no computers in those days.
I discovered fascinating facts about Michigan, but simply stating statistics seemed boring to me; besides, that's what everyone else would do. I decided to try something different and used a fox to tell my story. I began my story with a red fox standing at the edge of the woods with his paw lifted. I described the autumn trees of various species and colors that the fox was observing. I went on to tell of the fresh air the fox was scenting. Then I took the fox across the countryside and mentioned the freshwater streams and lakes as he came to them and the other animals, birds, and reptiles he met in his travels. I took him to a hill above a major city and let him tell me how it appeared to him and what he thought about it. The fox ended his journey on the sand dunes near Lake Michigan with a lovely description of rolling waves and a beautiful sunset. The essay contained over two thousand words written in cursive. I didn't own a typewriter or know how to type until I took a typing class in my sophomore year.
I was the first person in my class to hand in my essay. I gave it to Mrs. Near and hoped she wouldn't tell me it was terrible, and I had to do it over. She didn't look at it immediately, and it wasn't until she had us writing some lessons she gave us that she picked up my essay and began to read. I still recall her look of surprise. Then, Mrs. Near smiled at me, got out of her chair, and left the room with my story in her hand. I wondered how much trouble I was in.
As it turned out, my essay was declared the best in the school. Mrs. Near read it to the class as an example of thinking outside the box and using one's imagination to create essays uniquely. She also put the story in the school newspaper. Even though there were a few grammatical errors, Mrs. Near gave me an A-plus for originality. Of course, I didn't win the scholarship, which went to Jillene Lipps, the senior with the following best essay, but that was fine with me. Jillene had to stand before the entire school, read her writing, and thank the school for her college scholarship. I was glad it was her and not me.
 Recognized |
The photo is of me just before starting high school; a typical country bumpkin.
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