Things I Should've Put In The Book, But Didn't - Episode 4

Episode 4
Remembering the 1975-1976 school year

The 1975-76 school year saw me in the 2^nd grade still attending East Ward Elementary and starting to lose the majority of my baby teeth. In fact, my 1^st and 2^nd grade pictures are probably the worst out of all my school pictures (the 9^th grade picture is up there, too), because I looked like a snaggle-toothed weeble (remember those toys?).

However, my appearance would be the least of my concerns in the 2^nd grade. This particular school year saw me with the meanest and most intimidating teacher I’ve ever had in all of my years in school. Her name was Mrs. Zelma Moore, and like most of the teachers during that era at East Ward, she DID NOT PLAY. She very seldom smiled or laughed; she basically taught with a total scowl on her face. She was not there to help us adjust to the 2^nd grade as painless as possible. She was there to make our lives miserable as much as she could. She was like an Army drill sergeant, even going as far as to call us by our last names whenever she wanted something- “EDWARDS, BE QUIET!” “ANDERSON, DO YOUR OWN WORK!” “HARNAGE! TURN AROUND!” She was the only teacher I had with the exception of coaches who ever did that. She’d wear these pointed shoes every single day which seemed to make her look even more evil. And if you did something major that you knew you shouldn’t have done, that’s all she wrote. According to some of my classmates, she could swing a mean paddle- Seriously, when she popped somebody, it sounded like a rifle shot every time. I just mainly tried to stay out of her way and stay on her good side (a small area to be sure), but it was difficult.

The things that have stayed with me about that particular year were branded into my memory- I don’t think I won’t ever forget that period in my life. For instance, the class was divided into two- we had second graders and third graders in the class. There were 12 second graders and about 15-18 third graders. The interesting thing when I think about it today was that Mrs. Moore taught on a second-grade level, not third-grade, and that the third-graders in the class were basically (and barely) on second-grade level. All of us second-graders who were in the class were pretty smart; We made mostly As and Bs. There was Deyavor Harnage, Jennifer Anderson, Joanna Rodgers, John Young, Amber Knight, Fay Hill, Jimmy Wheat, and some others I don’t recall. We were also for the most part well-behaved. The third-graders, however, seemed to constantly stay in trouble. Mrs. Moore seemed to paddle someone every other day for talking too much, horse-playing, not doing their homework, running in the hallway, not sitting at their desk, etc. A lot of times, the classroom atmosphere was very tense. I can remember one day when Mrs. Moore was pissed off about something and she seemed to take whatever it was to the nth degree- We would’ve been better off sitting at a funeral. She was grading papers and had obviously gotten to mine when suddenly she snapped, “EDWARDS!! GET OVER HERE!!” I practically ran to her desk, thinking, oh sh**, what have I done-? She didn’t call me to her desk to cut off my head thankfully, but she almost might as well had. She was showing me how to work a particular math problem when suddenly she turned to me and said, “STOP BREATHING ON ME!” So, my 6-year old brain took that as to literally stop breathing period, so I stood there and held my breath until she got finished talking. I almost passed out for real, she talked so long. When I went back to my desk, I practically collapsed into my chair. That was a dumb moment for me, I’ll admit.

Another lowlight occurred when, once again, we were lining up to go to lunch, and of course, one of the bad third-graders decided to push me out of the line, and of course, I retaliated and pushed him back. So, of course I’m the one who got in trouble. This time and probably not the first time, Mrs. Moore decided to use psychology instead of a paddle. She announced to the class, “SINCE EDWARDS DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO STAND IN A LINE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, I WAS GOING TO TAKE THE CLASS TO THE PARK, BUT I’VE CHANGED MY MIND- WE’RE GOING TO DO WORK INSTEAD, AND YOU CAN THINK EDWARDS FOR THAT- NOW GET YOUR LITTLE A**ES TO THE CAFETERIA!” No, she didn’t say that last sentence- but the rest, she did. And you talk about a class turning on someone like the plague- That day I hated Mrs. Moore like never before, because I knew she wasn’t going to take us to the park regardless. We all could’ve acted like total angels and saints, and we would’ve still been doing work. And yet, the dummies (especially the ones in the third grade) couldn’t figure that out. To give credit where credit is due, Joanna, Jennifer, Deyavor, John, and Jimmy didn’t turn on me; but the rest of them did, and I’ve never forgotten that.

Sometimes I felt like Mrs. Moore just didn’t like me- (the feeling was mutual) I felt she had tried to embarrass me a few times on purpose, and if she was trying to teach me humility or whatever, it wasn’t working. We were at recess one time, and we were having running races, second-graders vs. third-graders. We would run to the fence, touch it, then run back and tag the next person to run. There were more 3^rd graders than 2^nd graders, so she put the slowest 3^rd graders on our team. Of course. And all three were girls, who sadly were slow in more ways than one. We only had four or five boys anyway, so we were already at a disadvantage anyway. But we all tried our best, and we lost the first two races. The third race we were determined to win, and we would have, because one of the third-graders fell down. But unfortunately, I unintentionally caused us to lose. When it came for my time to run, I ran to the fence as fast as I could; we had a two-person lead due to the fall. I hit the fence, and turned to run back, and…fell. My foot had gotten caught underneath the fence, and I couldn’t pull it loose without pulling some flesh. I yelled for help, but Mrs. Moore told my team not to help and for me to pull myself loose. The bottom of the fence had went through my sock and into my foot and ankle, so I couldn’t pull loose without hurting myself badly further. I tried, but I couldn’t. While I was struggling, the 3^rd graders had caught up and went through the entire team and finally won the race. I wasn’t going to give Mrs. Moore the satisfaction of seeing me cry, but I was having a hard time holding back the tears. Then to make matters worse, she told the class to go into the building! She wasn’t and didn’t even try to help me get loose! The 3^rd graders went in, but the 2^nd graders stayed and helped me pull loose, and yes, that’s another scar (on my ankle and foot) I have to this day. 

There was another instance that I won’t go into where Mrs. Moore and I didn’t quite see eye-to-eye, and her inclination was to give me a C on my report card because I couldn’t do something she had wanted me to do. Enough was enough, and this time I went and told Momma, and she and Mrs. Moore had some serious words. Whatever Momma said worked, because she changed my grade to a B.

By this time, I couldn’t wait for the school year to end. It hadn’t been too bad, due to the friendships I had, but having Mrs. Moore had been very stressful. I could, however, look forward to being in the 3^rd grade and being at a different school. Mrs. Moore had recommended me, Deyavor, and I believe Jennifer and Joanna, to be placed in Hudson Pep Elementary School, which was a school for very smart kids. I can remember my mom asking me if I wanted to go, and I told her yes, after finding out that my friends would be going also. I was ready for a different challenge.

Unfortunately, that challenge would come at a new school all right; but it wouldn’t be Hudson Pep. My daddy got transferred to a new military base, and we were moving once again. This time, I knew and understood why we were moving. I just wasn’t happy about it because I was leaving some true-blue friends behind, and a lot of memories- 

Things I Should've Put In the Book, But Didn't- Episode 3

Things I Should've Put In the Book
But Didn't
Episode 3

East Ward Elementary School

later Everhart Elementary School

Joanna and First Grade Memories

On the very first day of school in the first grade, I met this girl named Joanna Rodgers. She came up and introduced herself to me and asked me what my name was. After I told her, she wanted me to sit at the desk besides her desk. I didn’t argue or walk away or just say “no”; I went ahead and sat by her. She was the first kid in the room who had spoken to me, and she seemed to be a real friendly person, so why not? I was new to the school, having moved from New Mexico over the summer, so I didn’t know anybody. As the new kid on the block, one mainly would be to one’s self until someone would approach them in a friendly manner. And you hoped that someone would approach you that way, rather than the opposite, or else you were going to spend a lonely school year. So I had no problem sitting by Joanna; she looked interesting to me anyway. She was a red-head, had long red hair, and a lot of freckles. She was a little taller than me, not by much, and obviously very outgoing, talkative, and friendly. She basically made it up in her mind that she and I were going to be friends and do everything together in class. We did, and I didn’t have a problem with that at all. We worked together whenever we did worksheets, art projects, and crafts; we went to all of the centers together; we sat in the cafeteria together at lunchtime; and we played together during recess. I’m not ashamed to say that she was my best friend in the first grade, because she was. I enjoyed doing things with her. In time, others in my class would become my friends as well (Jennifer, John, Deyavor), but she was the first, and we stayed like that for a long time (all the way through the second grade).

As one grows older, one’s memory of their childhood starts fading away in spots, and there are things (and people) I don’t remember. For instance, one of my classmates and a good friend to this very day remembers me in the first grade and says that we sometimes played together at recess. He was in a different first grade class from mine, and I’m pretty sure I played with classmates whom I wouldn’t actually get to know until middle school or high school. This particular classmate even lived down the street from me on Young Street on the other side of the barber shop I used to go to on the corner of Young and 16^th. But I never went to his house, and I didn’t really know him back then. But we attended East Ward together at the time and crossed paths at recess. I just don’t remember that or him being at East Ward. I really wouldn’t meet and get to know him until we attended Judson together for a short while, and that’s when we became really good friends. His name: Wray Wade.

I might not remember everybody or everything that I did in the first grade, but I do remember some things:

There was a kid named Jimmy Wheat who would come to school every morning and tell us about how he watched ‘Batman” in the morning before school. We’d be like “Really? What channel does it come on?” He said, “Channel 11. At 8 o’ clock.” Now back then, there really wasn’t any cable, and the only channels you picked up were channels 3, 6, 7, and 12, if you were lucky. Channel 11 was from a station out of Dallas/Fort Worth (KTVT), and the only way one could get it would be through a good antenna or a satellite dish. I think that cable might have come along by the time I entered the 2^nd grade, but at the time, only a very few had it, if it existed. 1974 was also the year I started buying and reading comic books, so I knew who Batman was (the second comic book I ever bought was a Batman issue; the first was Scooby Doo). Batman had been very popular when it came on in the late 60s, so this was the syndicated version which came on. So the next morning, I got up early and turned on the black and white TV and at 8 o’ clock changed the channel to 11, and I saw….nothing. Nothing but snow. Or I think I saw an image through the snow. I strained and strained, turned the antenna until it fell off, adjusted the horizontal and vertical holds (old-timers will know what I’m talking about), and actually made everything worse. When I got to school, obviously I wasn’t the only one who tried to watch Batman, because half of us wanted to kill Jimmy and the other half called him a big liar. He swore up and down he watched Batman in the morning, but we didn’t believe him. The funny thing about the whole thing, I wouldn’t realize he was telling the truth until way later on, when my mom and I went to a store which sold color TVs, and on one of the TVs, on channel 11, was Batman. I told my mom, “I want THAT TV.”

One day, we were coming from recess, and Ms. Eckhardt told us all to line up. I got in line, and one of the other kids pushed me out of line. I pushed him back, we scuffled a little bit, and then the teacher got both of us and told us to stand off to the side. And so, while the rest of the first grade class looked on, the two of us got something which was new to me as far as school was concerned (and maybe something we need to bring back into schools): We got paddled. I didn’t cry; I was more in shock and embarrassed than anything else, and my main concern was that I didn’t want Momma to know, because she’d surely give me a real whipping when I got home. So as the end of the school day came about, I planned to run out of the room before everyone, go out front where my mom would be waiting, and just jump in the car and not say anything and go home. As soon as the bell rang, I thought I had beaten everyone out the door and to the front of the school. But standing there with Momma was another one of my classmates, a girl named Judy Buchanan, and the first words out of her mouth as I approached was, “Cedric got a paddling today!” Thank you very much.

It seemed like everything bad that happened to me happened at recess. One day, Joanna and I went and got on one of the seesaws. The seesaws back then were made of wood, and these seesaws looked like they had been through hell. Large pieces of wood were sticking up, but we got on them anyway. Well, a big kid wanted to get on the seesaw, so when the seesaw got level, Joanna and I tried to get off of the seesaw. She got off first, but before I could get off, the big kid got on, sat down hard on the seesaw, which made me fly up fast, which caused a large piece of the wood to embed itself in the back of my left thigh. I didn’t scream (that would come later), but it felt like I had been stabbed. This wasn’t no little splinter which had went in the back of my thigh; this was like being shot by an arrow. The school called Momma, she came and got me, took me home and tried to pull the large splinter of wood out of my thigh. Well, much to my chagrin and dismay, it broke at the point where it had entered, and so I had to go to the childrens’ hospital, which at the time was on Center Street near downtown. My doctor, Dr. Brown, after futilely trying to convince me it wouldn't hurt, had to cut around where the long piece of wood had went in to be able to get it out. If that wasn’t bad enough, I received no anesthetic or pain-killers or anything, and as he cut me, I screamed and screamed and SCREAMED. It hurt like I don’t know what, but finally he got what felt like a log out of my thigh, and I was overcome with relief. So were my mom and little sister, who sat in a little chair during the whole ordeal looking totally petrified and terrified. East Ward, with Momma’s urging, got rid of the seesaws, and I was left with a scar on the back of my thigh which I’ve got to this day.

Finally, another time we were at recess, and Ms. Eckhardt decided that since the entire class had acted so good that day, we would spend the rest of the day playing at the 16^th Street Park (Broughton) on its playground. We were ecstatic, of course, and we all took off running for the park. I realized I had an urge and need to use the restroom, but I was so caught up in going to the park, I felt I could hold it until we came back to the classroom. We had played for about 15 minutes until I realized I couldn’t hold it anymore, I’ve really got to go. I asked my teacher for permission, and she said, yes, so I started walking back towards the school, which looked like it was miles away. Then I started trotting, then I really took off running. I didn’t come close to making it. By the time I got to the school, I had literally drained myself and I was crying big-time. (Why? One word: Momma) My bestie had obviously followed me because after I went into the school and sat down in the hallway crying my eyes out, she came in and asked me what was wrong. I told her and she walked with me to the office and told them what happened, and of course they had to call Momma. Joanna stayed with me until Momma got there (with a change of clothes thankfully- one can’t smell like pee in front of a friend for very long), and Momma wasn’t mad when she heard how it happened. After a cleaning and clothes-changing, I was back to my old self and Joanna and I ran happily back to the park.

Next: 1975