However, my mother taught both my sister and me to count, spell,
and recite the alphabet perfectly before we were six. I
remember that I could read some before I started the first year.
Since there was no such thing as pre-school or kindergarten
then, you were either taught the basics at home, or you went
into first grade blind, so to speak.
I remember well my first day at school. We lined up to march
inside and, as we came through the entry, our teacher was
sitting at a desk just inside the door, asking for names and
birth dates. When it was my turn, she asked my name and I told
her it was Basil Duncan. She wrote Basil with an e on the end
(Basile)!
I was somewhat surprised that she did not know how to spell my
name, so I advised her that she had spelled it wrong. I then
proceeded to spell it correctly and even wrote it down so she
would remember.... From then on, I was sort of special to her,
and Eugene (who luckily still lived close enough to attend the
same school as me) and I became her best pupils.
In those days, the teacher would have the class line up each day
before classes started and she would inspect us for good
hygiene. We stood erect, held out our arms with palms down, and
she inspected our hands for dirt (both sides), and then checked
our nails. If dirt was found, you proceeded to the wash-up area
and corrected the situation. For boys, she also looked at our
faces, necks, and ears for dirt.
I never remember anyone, parent or child, resenting this. In
fact, it was expected! If you came to class neat and clean for
so many days, you were rewarded with little gifts, such as
toothpaste, a bar of soap, or a comb for boys -- and small items
of make-up (appropriate to their ages) for girls. Most of us
grew up to have pride in being neat and clean, and we worked
hard to get gold stars for cleanliness by our names.
During those years, learning was easy for me, and I completed
everything the first grade had to offer during the first two or
three months. So the teacher gave me second grade material to
work on. I finished all of that work during the next couple of
months, and she was at a loss as to what to do with me next.
I usually ended up helping the kids who were having some
difficulty.
It was about this time that my Great-Grandfather, a veteran of
the War Between the States (as it is called in the South -- you
might know it better as the "Civil War"), died. He was a very
special person in my life, and I'd like to interrupt my
narrative for a bit here and tell you a little more about
him....
Finally, I was old enough to go to school. In Texas, at that
time, a child must have reached their sixth birthday prior to
September first in order to attend school that year. I was six
on November 2, 1930, so I could not start school until the
following year. So I was almost seven before I ever saw a
classroom.
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