In 1948, in Texas, my mother placed me in the local one room schoolhouse. I was 6 years old. I was afraid of all the older bigger students, especially the six graders. I cried during the entire school day. The teacher gave up and gave me a coloring book and crayons. Mother was not happy with this. After w weeks, she arranged for me to be bussed to town in a first grade classroom. No longer was I frightened and I began to actually learn.
This reminds me of the homeschool group we belong to. All ages together, no one is afraid and the older ones like to help out the little ones and look after them in the playground. I think everyone is different and has a different experience.
Oh wow. Such a tight knit community, it’s kind of wonderful
I would love to see an update on this story!
A great slice of Americana.
In 1948, in Texas, my mother placed me in the local one room schoolhouse. I was 6 years old. I was afraid of all the older bigger students, especially the six graders. I cried during the entire school day. The teacher gave up and gave me a coloring book and crayons.
Mother was not happy with this. After w weeks, she arranged for me to be bussed to town in a first grade classroom. No longer was I frightened and I began to actually learn.
This reminds me of the homeschool group we belong to. All ages together, no one is afraid and the older ones like to help out the little ones and look after them in the playground. I think everyone is different and has a different experience.
I'm writing a story and I'm trying to get an idea on a schoolhouse that my characters are attending
Wow George paid to have a Master's in Entymology and ended up a Janitor? I wonder why...
He probably finds a great deal of peace in his lifestyle. And also, degrees did not cost as much back then.