Silver Bay Christmas - 1960

House on Banks Blvd.  Fourth Grade.

My white blouse is initialed with "N" for my child nickname, Narta.  Later, in the spring, I get a "Ben Casey" blouse - named for one of the two popular TV doctors.  The other famous TV doctor is my favorite, Dr. Kildare. 

Not sure, but I may be gazing at a new Silvertone transistor radio, still in its plastic wrapper. 

On the floor is my new chemistry set, chosen from the Wish Book, also known as the Sears Christmas catalog.  It includes a microscope!  Through its lens I look at strands of my hair and leaves from Mom's African violet.

I've never been that interested in science, but my teacher Mrs. Munson read us a book about Madame Curie and her work with radium.  And thanks to the Campton Library I've read Landmark biographies about Alexander Graham Bell, Luther Burbank and George Washington Carver.  Science is interesting again.

It's the Cold War.  President Kennedy, just elected, wants our country to have more scientists in the future.  Maybe I can be one of them...  

Third Grade - Campton School

Mrs. Lyson's Class

1959-1960

In September of 1959, I turned eight.  If I'd been born 12 days later, I would have been in second, not third grade.  And graduated with the Silver Bay class of 1970 instead of  '69.


When were school photos taken?  Beginning or end of the year?  I wonder if this was shot in the spring. I'm biting my lip, kinda got a smirk on my face (2nd row, 2nd girl from left).  Makes me think I'm "glad to be back."  By that,  I mean back in Silver Bay, especially back to Mrs. Lyson's class at Campton School.

It was a strange year.  A year full of family tension.  A year that included a move back to the family farm, of months when I rode the bus to school and being the new girl in class.  I could, and maybe I will, build a novel about the events in my childhood during this time.  I have a notion if we had stayed on the farm.. if I had remained a student in North Branch, I would have become a different person with a far different life...  maybe run away from home in high school and joined the hippies in San Francisco.

 

SILVER BAY, 1958-1959, Second Grade

I am in second grade.  My teacher is Mrs. Sarf.  She's big and tall. Sometimes she scares me.

I'm learning to spell.  Some days we stand around the room in single file.  Mrs. Sarf says a word and when it's our turn we have to spell it out loud.  Sometimes two words sound the same but mean different things and are not spelled the same.  Did you know a slice of pie is spelled "piece" of pie?  But at Christmas  when you hear "peace on earth, good will to men" it's not spelled like piece of pie?

At the beginning of the year Daddy and I walk to the public library.  It's really close to our house.  It's in a green building.  The police office is in the same building.  The library is on the end near Banks Blvd.  Daddy gets a library card.  I look at all the books in the children's section. There are a lot of books to read.

One day I find a book on the library shelf that is the same book we have in our desk at school!   It's for when we do science.  But we don't take the book out of our desk much.  I have Daddy check it out for me. I read the whole thing.  It's easy because it's mostly pictures of birds and stuff. 

I can't wait until the day when we have "show and tell."  I have something to talk about.  The girl in my class who knew how to spell piece and peace reads a lot and is smart.  She might want to know about the public library in the green building.  For "show" I bring the science book from the library.

My teacher doesn't like my "show and tell." I want to sink through the floor when she is mad at me in front of my friends.  She calls my house.  I should not take out any of my school books from the public library. I will be bored at school if I read those books at home. That's what she tells my mom.   I thought my mom would be scared of my teacher, too.  But she's not.  Mom tells my teacher it's my teacher's job to make sure I'm not bored at school.  And it's good thing I like books.

Although we rarely used our science book, one spring day we take a "science field trip."  We walk to our teacher's house.  Her husband trapped a beaver.  The beaver's skin is stretched out on a board.  The little feet are in a small cardboard box on the lawn.

Science wasn't just pictures of pretty birds and animals. I learned more about that later in high school -  when we dissected fetal pigs in biology class. Oh, the smell of formaldehyde...

Silver Bay, 1956-1957

DAYS OF WONDER 

My name is Narta.  I live in a cabin in the trailer court.  The trailer court is near the big lake.  The lake's name is Superior. Daddy sometimes calls it the shining big sea water. The road by the big lake has curves and hills.  I get carsick sometimes when we go on that road.

I moved to the cabin from a farm in Harris, Minnesota.  I like the cabin because it's next to a playground.  There are lots of kids in the trailer court.  Boys and girls. Before I moved here I only knew two boys.  Dean lives on a farm near ours.  Jeff lives in Minneapolis.  His mom is my mom's sister. 

I live in the cabin with my mom and my dad and my sister Karen and Boots.  He is a dog.  Karen is in 11th grade.  Her classes are in houses on Bell Circle.  I can see the school houses from the playground at Campton school.  

I am in kindergarten at Campton School.  I am in the afternoon class.  My teacher is Mrs. Firminhac.  The best toys at school are trucks and cars with wheels.  They are made of wood.  They are new and shiny and smooth.  I want to play with them but the boys take them first.  Some of the boys live in the trailer court.

My first day of school.  I am 4.

My Name is Miss Chicken: Gym Classes in the Campton Gym (continued)

I confess I hated gym class.  If I was sent to the library instead I would have been happier.  However.  Human beings are animals and need to move.  But all those games of dodge ball in the Campton Gym?  I was soooo miserable.  But not as miserable as the days I walked into the Campton Gymnasium and sniffed the smell of dank white canvas.  Sure enough.  There was the torture rack, more commonly known as a trampoline, sitting there.  After we unlaced our tennis shoes and threw them in a pile near the door, we moved to the contraption and surrounded it.  My hands felt like I’d been throwing snowballs without wearing mittens.  My feet were cold and numb as if I’d been night skating in January.

As we stood around the circumference of the trampoline, waiting our turn, I feared for my life... and for the life of others. Mr Gere had explained we were spotters.  I quivered to think I was responsible for keep my classmates from popping off onto the gym floor and breaking their necks. I was so weak.  So puny.  I'd never be able to stop anyone hurtling toward me after a bad bounce.

The line moved me ever closer to the end of the trampoline, the end where a three-step, movable stair unit led up to the bouncy platform of peril.  Soon I would be forced onto the trampoline to demonstrate my inability to accomplish even the simplest of skills, the seat drop.

I had barely enough bend in the knees to walk myself to the middle of the canvas.  As I timidly attempted to create some air between my feet and the surface of the trampoline one of the boys noticed my feet.  “Look at her toes.  They point up.”  Someone called them Turkish toes. The laughter rippled around me.  They weren’t lying, my toes did point upwards. If my cotton socks were golden instead of white they’d have fit right into the world of Aladdin or any other story about exotic lands in the East.  But I was no Aladdin.  A more appropriate name was Miss Chicken.