The year my grandmother Lulu E. Hayes celebrated her eighteenth birthday as well as her wedding day to my grandfather, George Dwight Banister, my elementary school was built; 1895. First of all it is extremely hard to imagine my grandmother at the age of 18, but I have a picture to prove it. Second of all I am amazed that my very first school was fifty four years old and I had just lived five of those years.
My school was huge. It originally had beautiful turrets and balconies that eventually were destroyed by strong storms. My school was in the plains state of Iowa. Iowa was a frequent victim of strong storms especially in early spring and of course, blizzards and extremely cold temperatures in the winter.
In 1949 the bus picked me up at my driveway very early in the morning which was seven miles away from this beautiful school. A school that I had waited for it seemed like for an eternity. The bus driver's name was Charlie. I will never forget what a kind man he was.
When I got off the bus the teachers were waiting for us on the playground. The school was huge and there were so many children! I was in a group that was to be my kindergarten class. My schoolroom was in the basement. My teacher's name was Miss Peterson. That name sounded a lot like my last name which was Johnson. There were other students whose last name was Peterson and Johnson. I can remember looking out the half windows of my schoolroom. It was a little hard to pay attention to the teacher that first day. Everything was so new and interesting.
School was a fascinating place for me to go five days a week. I couldn't wait to learn how to read and write. I loved to hear the teacher talking. It seemed like every time she said something I learned something new!
The next year I was in first grade. In that grade I learned many things. Some of which were horrifying to me like a teacher spanking a little girl in my class. I can still remember that day in great detail. I also remember my first Veterans Day at Lincoln School only it was called Armistice Day. It was the eleventh month the eleventh day and the eleventh hour.
My school actually was a high school. The big kids were upstairs and the little kids on two other levels.
On this particular day I had a nickel in my pocket. You have to understand that a nickel in those days was something that I ordinarily never had. This nickel was an entrance fee to go upstairs where the big kids were to watch an Armistice Day movie. If you didn't have a nickel you stayed downstairs and got to listen to stories and color pictures.
As my chubby little legs climbed those cement stairs the edges of them fascinated me. They were shiny silver and slippery on the edges. Little did I know that was probably one of the last years that they were probably safe to use. My beautiful school was demolished in 1965 because it was unsafe.
When we got to the movie room we were told to be very quiet. The room got dark and loud music came on the screen. It was called a news reel that was black and white. It showed men in uniforms with guns and lots of smoke. There was a man's voice that told us what was going on. I didn't like that movie and felt sorry that my daddy had wasted a nickel. I wished that I could give it back. After the movie was over we listened to a man in a uniform that told us that we were very lucky to live in America and that we were free because a lot of men and women fought what I considered to be the bad guys and lots of them died doing that.
Well when I got home from school that day I couldn't wait to tell my mom what had happened at school that day. She sat at our kitchen table and listened to my tale and asked me questions and shook her head and nodded her head as my story continued. When I was exhausted from telling her about the movie I told her I was sorry that I had wasted the nickel. I should have stayed downstairs and colored and listen to stories.
I can remember looking at my mom and asking her how come we were lucky to live where people didn't fight and have guns. She smiled at me and held my little hands and said, "God has a special place for all of us to live. He chose this place for us to live so we need to take good care of it. Some day in Sunday school you will learn about being good stewards.
However, there are some things you need to know and probably won't understand just yet, but in our family we have had lots of soldiers fight for our freedom against "those bad guys" you were talking about. For centuries actually, LuAnne, so take good care of everything they fought for just for us. Honor them and what they stood for.
Happy Veterans Day from a little girl that grew up in Iowa in a small town and went to school in a great big school
I was 6 years old in this photo. I was wearing my very favorite green coat. Oh how I cried when I outgrew it. By the way the background is the blackboard in my first grade classroom!
