Senior Experiences, 1921
This article describes events experienced by members of the Class of 1921 . This and other articles may be found in the University Archives.
Citation for this article is: "Senior Experiences," Training School Quarterly, Vol. 8, pages 304-308.
Going to Joyner's
I consider myself very fortunate in having been given the opportunity to do a part of my practice teaching at Joyner's, in a typical three-teacher rural school. It was my first experience in a school of this kind. Many times I have heard that a country school teacher did not have to work nearly so hard as a town or city one, and I guess I had formed that opinion myself, but it was not many days before I was ready to change my mind as to this. To be a good teacher in a country school there are many problems to come up that a teacher having only one grade has never heard of, I firmly believe. Now, I feel that should it fall to my lot to teach in a country school I will have no easy task and many problems will confront me.I certainly have a much clearer idea of the teacher's work.Although it may be harder, it is certainly no less interesting.
Each one of us, who did some of our practice teaching at Joyner's, enjoyed our work and we feel we understand more fully what teaching in the country really is.Those who taught out there last regretted that, because of the bad roads from the Training School out to Joyner's, our teaching was abandoned a couple of weeks before the term was really out.
Getting to and from Joyner's is always a problem. Nearly all in our group could drive a Willys-Knight car.However, after careful consideration of the question from all angles, we decided on Mayme Whitfield as chauffeur. Mr. Wright went out with us the first two days and we were such an apt group he then felt perfectly safe to leave us. But had he known what was to follow I think he would have stayed at least a day longer.
At first the car just would not start. All of us had a trial but Mayme only, the first and last to try, succeeded in getting it started, thus proving our wisdom in selecting her as chauffeur. When we were at last off to Joyner's we were so excited Mayme forgot she must stop at Five Points, according to police regulations, and in trying to do so, suddenly, we almost ran into another car that was crossing at the same time, but managed to get by without a policeman getting us, and we were off again for Joyner's. Nothing else happened of unusual importance the rest of the trip out except murmurings from the rear seat, "Don't go so fast," "Oh, you are meeting some one." "Please put on the brakes!"Every girl helped drive the car. The way our chauffeur ignored our advice again shows our good judgment in selecting her.
We got to school just as the first bell was ringing. We joined in the opening exercises and started the day off in good spirits.
At 11:30 we were ready to start back to the Training School, for we were supposed to be back in time for an observation at the Model School.
Did we do it?We got as far as Five Points with nothing unusual happening except merely knocking a Ford car out in the middle of the street, but we couldn't be bothered by so little a thing as that, for we must hurry on. Again, we came face to face with serious trouble.Our chauffeur found it utterly impossible to change from low to high gear.We drifted on down Evans Street, from Five Points for at least three blocks. We were so excited that none of us realized that the motor was not moving at all, and a man walking along the street came over to see if we needed help.We hoped he did not want to pull us for speeding, for we were going at a rate of five miles per hour.He soon helped us to put and end to the "gear" trouble, and in a short while we were stopping at the Model School. Although we heard a part of the lesson taught, I fear the excited "bunch" understood little of the lesson.
Every Tuesday and Friday afternoon we drove out to the Joyner school to talk over our work with the critic teachers, also to get assignments for the week.
The children of this school gave an ice cream supper while we were teaching out there, and we, the student-teachers, were very glad to go.The purpose of this supper was to raise money to buy books for this school.
We were all sorry when our work was finished in the Joyner school, and I hope the children were helped by my working with them as I was by their work.
Don't think for a moment that we considered going to and coming from Joyner's the day's work.What came between these times is what counted, but it would take a book to write it up.
Miriam Burbage, '21
Being Postmistress
The sight of the postmistress in a school suggests mail, and, I fear, mail only. Every day more than three hundred pairs of eyes see me, and each time, only these questions arise, "Has the mail come?", Have you put it up?", "Did I get any?"When my eyes pop open in the morning the first thought is mail, because if I don't get it up before breakfast I will see three hundred disappointed people march to breakfast as if they were going to a funeral. The thought of mail comes as regularly as a tonic -- three times a day, twice before meals and just after school. Only on Sunday mornings do I get the extra fifteen minutes of sleep, and then about the time I start to dress for Sunday school some one calls down the hall, "Annie Laurie, the mail has come." On Sunday afternoons, I am enjoying a nap, or just before I get ready to join the parade on the campus, there comes a reminder from below my window, "The mail has come." However, at this hour the crowd is not quite as impatient as at other times, for those girls who are always expecting mail are too much interested in the males on Fifth Street to leave and go to the postoffice. I dare not let myself be seen on campus after the mail is up, for all I would hear would be, "Did I get a letter?"
At the postoffice, at the noon mail hour, is one of the best places and times to observe human nature, and the various characteristics of individuals. It is generally accepted that everybody likes to get mail, so at mail time every type of human nature seems to show itself. Thre is always a noisy group, each one of whom shouts her affairs to the world, one calling across to another one, "Look in box No. 21," "If I don't hear from Bob today, I'll never write to him again," "I heard from Nick, but there's nothing in it," "Oh, 'Liz, I heard from Shorty," "Glory be! here's a check! Guess I'll go up street this afternoon," "Here's a 'call for package' slip; I hope it's something to eat," "My, this is a scorching letter," "Annie Laurie, didn't I get a package?" (when she wasn't even expecting one). Then there is the type made up of those who never utter a sound about mail, but that's no sign that what is received by them is not interesting. Just watch one of these when she thinks no is noticing her and see her face sparkle with enthusiasm, as she turns the pages of her letter; or notice the shadow of disappointment spread over her face as finds no mail and calmly walks out. Then last, and least in number, are those (mostly the faculty) who, I would not say are altogether indifferent, yet had rather wait awhile and avoid the rush, knowing their mail is perfectly safe and that it will be just as interesting any time they go for it.
It is also amusing when with a crowd of girls some of the very talkative tell various tales about their numerous friends which would make others think they are very popular, but I have noticed that those who talk often receive fewer letters than those who sit quietly by and say little. Their letters come regularly, and after time passes and we pick up a paper and read about their weddings, it will reveal no surprise to us.
In spite of all the little worries, I can cheerfully say that it has been one of the most fascinating positions I ever held. It has never ceased to be exceedingly interesting to look at letter after letter. Sometimes I catch myself trying to picture the homes and the personality shining through these letters, and I feel as if I know the girls better. Of course, there is always a feeling of thrill when I come across my own mail, and it is sometimes a temptation to stop and read mine, but I fear I would not get far before the three hundred outside would set up a howl of protest. I also defy any one to say that postoffice officials read every post-card, for I haven't had time to read the first one yet.
Taking all into consideration, I am wondering if I will be as happy in the schoolroom as I have been in the postoffice this year.
Annie Laurie Baucom
Living Through the Hurly-Burly
One day before going home in June, 1920, I put in my application for the next year. I was then rooming in town and did not know which room I wanted, but the girl whom I had planned to room with knew the good rooms and she said, "Let's apply for either 67 or 71." So we wrote on our application, "I prefer either room 67 or 71, west dormitory." We thought surely we would get one or the other. Every time we would write to each other we would ask, "Do you know which room you are going to have?"Well, time went by and still I didn't know where I was going to room. Finally, about two days before I was to leave home, I received a tag for my trunk and on it was room No. 54. Well, I began wondering where 54 was, and also as to whether or not the girl I had requested as a room-mate had been assigned 54 also. I was simply on my head to know whom I was going to room with.
I reached Greenville about 7:30 o'clock. I ate supper in town and right after supper I came to investigate the location of 54. After looking on all the halls downstairs, I came upstairs, and looked on all the halls, and where do you think I found the long-sought-for home? The second
door from the end, on the east hall of west dormitory, as far as possible from the room I asked for. There the room was, but no room-mate or any one. It looked so forsaken that I didn't tarry long. I asked every one that I saw if they had seen Ethel Clements and they would say yes, that they had seen her, but that they didn't know where she was. I looked in every room in west dormitory; then I had a thought that possibly she was somewhere in east dormitory, so I went over there, and after a long search I found her. Before I spoke to her I asked her where she was going to room, and she said 54. When she said 54 I was happy for I had found the one that I was to spend the winter with; the room mattered little just so I had the right person.
I came over the next morning to help fix up our room. When I got here I heard some one say that they new wing of east dormitory was not completed and that there were more girls here than could be properly cared for, and that three or four would have to stay in a room until the wing could be completed. Well, I was scared to death for fear that my room-mate and I would have an extra one, or may be two, for there were three or four in nearly every room on my hall, but we went through the "hurly-burly" without an extra one. Nearly every morning there was a big commotion. The girls had to get up at six o'clock in order to get ready by 7:30. Sometimes some girls would wait until the fifteen-minute bell would ring before they would get up, then you could hear them flying to the little bath-room. When the breakfast bell rang it was very amusing to see four and five girls piling out of one little room, dressing as they came. It was not an unusual thing to hear some one say, "Has any one a hair-pin that they can let me have? My roomates got up before I did and they got all of my hair-pins and I couldn't find but two anywhere in the room."
Although the parlors had not been furnished there were a few chairs, and it was a frequent sight to see them draped with girls, sometimes more than one on a chair, who had gathered for the professed purpose of amusing themselves with music and talk, but we have an idea that many of them sought refuge there as an escape from room-mates. Since we are all properly coupled off, two by two, each one appreciates her room and one room-mate more than ever before.
Mary Corbett, '21
