Scott City Musings: 70 years ago

I was born and raised a few miles north of Arthur, Nebraska, in the heart of the Sandhills. The claim was that at one time it was the largest desert in the U.S.

By the time I came along it had grassed over and was a sea of rolling hills covered in all kinds of native grasses. My parents owned land north of Arthur in the country. At that time, there were small one-room schools located throughout the county where local kids went to school.

All nine grades were in the same room and almost always only one teacher for kindergarten through eighth grade. Teachers were required to get a teaching certificate, which took one summer and consisted of 12 credits. Virtually everyone in western Nebraska went to Chadron State College or Chadron State Teachers College.

District 2 grade school was a one-room school about 4 miles northwest of Mom and Dad’s place. It was a small school, maybe 16x30, with a small lean-to porch on the south end where the students hung their coats and where the bucket of drinking water was placed with a common dipper.

Every morning, a fresh bucket was pumped by one of the students. The north wall was covered by blackboards. Students sat facing north in a variety of desks. There were maybe 10 to 20 students scattered through the nine grades. The teacher’s desk was on the south side facing north, if my memory is correct.

It was about 70 years ago that Mom and Dad got both my brother and I dressed up, drove the 4 miles to District 2 School and dropped me off to start kindergarten. I don’t remember whether I was scared or excited. I would imagine Mom and Dad were a bit nervous. They had two daughters, 13 and 16 years before I came along, so they had been through this before, but I was their firstborn son.

I knew some of the kids that were attending school there. My good friend Suzanne was maybe a first grader. Twila, my cousin, was an eighth grader and another friend Alan was, I believe, an eighth grader. Probably more, but I don’t remember. I was introduced to my teacher, Miss Shirley, at that time. I would imagine we had to call her Miss Shirley.

Miss Shirley was tall for a lady. I’m guessing maybe 5-foot-8 or an inch or two more. For a short kid that was tall. (I’m just 5-foot-7 now!) Miss Shirley had a darker complexion and, at that time, I thought she had a rather long nose. I figured with that complexion and nose she had to have some Sioux Indian blood in her, which made me like her even more. Miss Shirley was a pretty lady.

Miss Shirley opened up the world for me. She taught me my ABCs and how to print. We had flash cards of words and letter sounds and math problems. We learned how to spell, gosh knows how many words. Every day, we’d eat our sack lunches, listen to Miss Shirley read a story from some book and, many times, we’d put our heads down on the desk and take a nap.

In time, Miss Shirley taught me the basics of how to read but, of all the things I learned, the most important was a love to read and learn.

Miss Shirley, I believe, taught at District 2 one year and then went on with her life. Mrs. Mavis Steinke became my teacher and later on her husband, Mr. Harold Steinke, taught me. And at the end of my eighth grade, I moved on and became a freshman at Arthur County High School.

Fast forward to today January 2025. I recently turned 75 the other day and Miss Shirley, who’s on Facebook with me, commented on my Facebook page that it was 70 years ago I came to District 2 to begin kindergarten as her student. And who would have known 70 years later, Miss Shirley, now just Shirley, and I are friends on Facebook.

Just me,

Rennie

Phillips began life as a cowboy, then husband and father, carpenter, a minister, gardener and writer. He may be reached at phillipsrb@hotmail.com.