The old schoolhouse on the town common (built in 1845, not in 1759 as stated by the plaque) is a landmark in the center of Blandford. It can be seen from the eastern approach as soon as one tops the last rise to Main Street. Unlike other district schools which formerly dotted the town, this is a two story building and at the time of which I write, it contained two schoolrooms, a selectmen's office, a book room, a storage area for wood and a vestibule where one hung outer garments.
The upper story was also used as a Grange Hall at the time, so the desks were mounted on moveable platforms made of two or three long boards, cleated together. These could then be moved to the side of the room when they met. We were often annoyed to find that someone had opened the desks and disarranged the books and papers after one of the meetings. Before this time I believe tables were used, around which the pupils sat.
Heat in the school rooms was provided by stoves of the type now called "school- house" stoves. The teacher took care of the fires, aided by the boys as required. These stoves were long and had flat tops which were fine for toasting sandwiches if we de- sired. On very cold days, it was sometimes necessary to huddle around the stoves in the early part of the day.
There was no plumbing in the schoolhouse. For drinking water, we depended on the big boys to bring up a pail full from a
nearby well. A common dipper rested in this and was used by all. However, we were not to return unused water to the pail when we drank. But the dipper was returned to its former place! Finally the school committee, one of whom was Dr. Percy Shurtleff, took a great step forward in the interests of sanitation. It was decreed that each pupil should provide his own cup with a handle. Each had a hook to hang it on. From then on the dipper was presumably used only for dipping water into the cups.
My introduction to school was in Westfield, where I attended the Franklin Street School through kindergarten and first grade. I started second grade there, but transferred to Blandford when my father purchased a new home of Franklin Wyman in 1909. It was on Birch Hill Road in Blandford.
The first four grades in District #1 were taught in the downstairs room. There was probably seating room for 20-25 pupils. My first seat-mate was Gladys Nye, because the desks were double. The seats were hinged and were wonderful nutcrackers for pig walnuts when inserted there and the seat brought down suddenly as one sat.
I remember vividly a circle, drawn on the blackboard and divided into various sized pie shapes, each colored brightly in red, green, yellow and violet. At the time, I could not fathom the meaning of this circle, but later found it was an introduction to fractions.
Our teacher was a gray-haired woman named Luella Smith. We knew she had eyes in the back of her head because she was in- variably aware of any untoward behavior on the part of the pupils, even though writing on the blackboard. Her big home-made desk had ample room beneath it for the discipline of "sitting under the desk" - a terrible punishment. I do not remember Miss Smith as an individual very much. She was "teacher" and no more at that age.
I returned to Westfield for a time to stay with my Uncle Frank and Aunt Inda and attended third grade in the Normal Training School on Washington Street. On coming back to Blandford, I had Mabel Nye, a Blandford-born teacher. She became ill, and Flora Hall, another Blandfordite, took her place. She was experienced, and I know she gave us excellent training. Elizabeth Kempton and Irene Hadley were my last teachers in the lower room.
Miss Sarah Jones held forth in the upper room over the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. She was my last teacher in Blandford and I learned much from her. She was a flower lover, as Miss Hall was a bird watcher. Miss Jones had a contest to see who could bring in the greatest number of wild flowers. We came to school clutching a handful of rather wilted flowers each day. It was good training in observation, for many of these could have been passed by without thought. In later years, I found a big thrill in discovering delicate wildflowers, a clump of yellow lady slippers, purple fringed orchids in a swamp, and the glowing cardinal flower.
The day Miss Hope Whittlesey came was a red-letter day in the week for me. She was the drawing teacher and I remember the day she introduced us to related curves. I was fascinated with the lovely flowing lines and the designs to be made. She also grounded us well in perspective. There was nothing modern in her approach, but we did learn to see form and color.
Mr. Albert Smith, our music teacher, had excellent training at Cornell. He passed on to us knowledge which we could use whether or not we had good singing voices. His instruction stood me in good stead when I later took piano lessons.
FCGDAEB and BEADGCF, the positions of sharps and flats on the staff, were impressed upon us and we also learned that reading from the bottom, the spaces spelled FACE. The lines could be remembered by saying "Every Good Boy Does Finely." We also learned how to locate "do" according to the signatures.
Mr. Leon Merrill was the school superintendent at this time. He came perhaps once a month, driving a horse and buggy which he hitched to the flag pole in front of the school. We stood in awe of him but he probably was really a kindly man. It was his habit to interrogate the pupils in the various classes to acquaint himself with their progress. It often seemed that he heard only enough to satisfy himself as to the pupil's understanding. Then he would say, "That's sufficient." When we played school, we always had a superintendent who said the same thing.
We had no graduation exercises in those days. When I entered Westfield High School in the fall of 1916, I had no diploma stating I had satisfactorily completed grammar school. Instead I entered "on probation." In other words, I had to prove in the first few weeks that I was able to do work at the high school level. I still have the letter sent to my father by Mr. Merrill, who had checked my progress there, saying that I was doing very well.
My Blandford home was in what was sometimes called "Wymanville" or "Wyman's Corner." Horatio Wyman, the first of the name in Blandford, had settled here in 1840 and set up his blacksmith shop. From time to time some of his children built or lived nearby and descendants have continued there until this day.
From our house, the distance to school was 11⁄2 miles. In my day, there were at times a dozen pupils who trudged that road to school from Wymanville. No school busses whizzed us to and fro. We all carried lunches, usually in old lard pails. There were no thermos bottles then, and I remember many times when I used a hot, hard-boiled egg as a hand warmer on very cold days.
My lard pail became a weapon on one occasion, when one of the "state boys" staying with Uncle Ely Wyman had pestered me beyond endurance. I let him have it over the head and immediately was frightened at what I had done. He was not hurt badly though. He mended his ways and we became friends again.
Sometimes, when a thaw set in, it seemed as if we slipped back one step for every two taken as we went up the hill. I often took my beloved Flexible Flyer to school and could slide nearly all the way home. Traffic was not a thing of great danger then. Usually a teamster would turn out a bit to allow a sled to continue in the worn track.
At lunch time, we rarely ate our meal as it was prepared for us. "Who will trade for my cake?" or "Will you give me your piece of pie for my cookies?" were common questions. Somehow another's goodies seemed better. The school lunch program did not come until years later. We usually made short work of eating in order to get outside to play.
Our amusements during recess and the noon hour were not directed by an adult. We had no playground equipment, nor were we strictly confined to the school area. Sometimes small groups played together and at other times all joined in the games. Marbles, tops, and jump ropes did not enter into our play very much. City children went into these on a seasonal basis. We were inclined to invent our own activities.
Since school began right after the Union Agricultural Society Fair, nearly everyone gravitated to the fairgrounds to search for coins dropped near the concessions. Some were always found. We sometimes puffed our way around the race track, which meant trotting a half mile.
The outdoor games might be hop-scotch, tag, farmer-in-the-dell and many others which we knew. But other games seemed more interesting. A favorite was playing house in the pines behind the school. These houses were made by heaping pine needles into long windrows representing the walls of the house. Openings were left in the "walls" for doors and woe betide anyone who took a short cut instead of entering properly by the door.
"Pom-pom-pull-away" was a game we liked. Three lines were scratched, perhaps 12-15 feet apart, across the road down by the old cemetery. The players stood behind one of the outer lines and "It" was stationed at the center line. "It" called out "Pom- pom-pull-away. Come before I pull you away." The object of the game was to cross to the other outer line without being tagged by "It." Those tagged joined in catching the players until all were caught. Then the first person tagged became the next "It." It was a long drawn-out game and perhaps we never really finished before the bell rang for the afternoon school session.
In warm weather, the boys played a form of baseball. Sometimes they condescended to let the girls play and we were properly flattered by this.
A lot near the corner of Tannery Hill and Herrick Road drew our attention in the spring. As I remember it, this must have been pasture land. There was a huge chestnut tree which had fallen. While sitting astride this, one could imagine it to be Pegasus. In this lot we found, in early spring, lovely arbutus, so pink and fragrant.
In warmer weather, we girls sometimes took our lunches into the "Jack Mack" lot between Tannery Hill and North Blandford Road. After eating, we searched for and found delicious wild strawberries. This lot was open mowing then.
On rainy days, when we had to stay inside, we sometimes played "Black Magic." This was fun when most did not know the secret. Presumably only two knew it, the one who went into the anteroom while the rest decided on some object to be identified. Also the person who asked the questions. "Is it the teacher's desk, the window shade, the string of beads around Mary's neck, my green sweater, the black stove, the dictionary?" The last was correct and the clue was the black stove named just before the right answer - thus black magic.
We also played a game called "Gossip." A line of ten, twelve or more formed. The first person in line whispered a sentence to the second. This was passed on by whispers until the end of the line was reached. Then the last person repeated aloud what he had heard. The end result was never the same as the beginning and sometimes was hilarious when compared.
Playing Grange was another rainy day activity. The Grange room for us was the storage area for wood and no one was admitted without the important password. As I recall, we did nothing in particular in there, only sat on uncomfortable chunks of wood. The fun was in being one who was admitted. Lawrence Ripley was usually master of this Grange because his father held that office in the real Grange.
We sometimes played "fox and geese" in a trampled circle in the snow in front of the schoolhouse. Running back and forth and around kept us warm.
However, sliding was the chief occupation in winter. Many pupils brought their sleds and some of the bigger boys brought "double rips." These seated six or eight and really gathered speed. We started at the top of "church hill" and usually went straight down the street. Occasionally we turned left at Russell Road and thereby lengthened the slide. I remember once we did so and by swaying back and forth to keep up momentum when we slowed on the flat places, we were able to go as far as the old Second Division Road. It was one-thirty when we got back! Miss Jones asked why we were so late and all of us thought it would not have been safe to try to brake the speed by dragging our feet! She did not punish us and we thought we got off easy, but we did not reckon with the school committee. In a few days that august group ruled that no one was to turn into Russell Road thereafter.
There were school activities which we enjoyed. A spelling bee was great fun and was a contest within the school, not between schools. It was mortifying to be the first to sit down - not so embarassing if one was able to stand thru most of the harder words.
On one occasion, a little play, based on "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch" was given. John Peebles was one of the actors, taking the part of Billy. Gertrude Lester, whose long blond braids were perfect for the part, was Europena. The Wiggs family was preparing to go to the "Opery House" that evening. We squealed with laughter when John ironed Gertrude's braids with a flat iron while she knelt protesting on the floor beside the ironing board. All this was to make her hair frizzy later when unbraided.
For Memorial Day, we learned patriotic recitations and sang songs like "Tenting Tonight" and "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean." A Civil War veteran usually spoke to us. I recall one occasion when Charles B. Hayden, later to become my father-in-law, spoke to us. There were tears in his eyes as he told us of his experiences.
Walking home that 11⁄2 miles in May and June could be hot work. I used to take off my shoes and go barefoot after returning
until I became 13 years of age. Then my grandmother forbade it, saying I was a "young lady now" and it was not suitable. How my feet did miss that freedom. Often when I got home I drew up the milk can from the well and filled a glass with refreshingly cold milk. Sometimes I snitched some heavy cream from a pan and whipped it to top a piece of chocolate cake. Good!
On the last day of school all books and supplies were gathered up and put in the bookroom until fall. Then came the long anticipated school picnic. Usually we went to a pine grove out on the North Blandford Road, with a nearby open lot. We played games and ate many sandwiches and wonderful cakes. Lemonade was our thirst quencher. And of course we sang,
"No more pencils, no more books,
No more teacher's cross-eyed looks," but we really did not mean it and were glad to return to those self-same things in September.
The upper story was also used as a Grange Hall at the time, so the desks were mounted on moveable platforms made of two or three long boards, cleated together. These could then be moved to the side of the room when they met. We were often annoyed to find that someone had opened the desks and disarranged the books and papers after one of the meetings. Before this time I believe tables were used, around which the pupils sat.
Heat in the school rooms was provided by stoves of the type now called "school- house" stoves. The teacher took care of the fires, aided by the boys as required. These stoves were long and had flat tops which were fine for toasting sandwiches if we de- sired. On very cold days, it was sometimes necessary to huddle around the stoves in the early part of the day.
There was no plumbing in the schoolhouse. For drinking water, we depended on the big boys to bring up a pail full from a
nearby well. A common dipper rested in this and was used by all. However, we were not to return unused water to the pail when we drank. But the dipper was returned to its former place! Finally the school committee, one of whom was Dr. Percy Shurtleff, took a great step forward in the interests of sanitation. It was decreed that each pupil should provide his own cup with a handle. Each had a hook to hang it on. From then on the dipper was presumably used only for dipping water into the cups.
My introduction to school was in Westfield, where I attended the Franklin Street School through kindergarten and first grade. I started second grade there, but transferred to Blandford when my father purchased a new home of Franklin Wyman in 1909. It was on Birch Hill Road in Blandford.
The first four grades in District #1 were taught in the downstairs room. There was probably seating room for 20-25 pupils. My first seat-mate was Gladys Nye, because the desks were double. The seats were hinged and were wonderful nutcrackers for pig walnuts when inserted there and the seat brought down suddenly as one sat.
I remember vividly a circle, drawn on the blackboard and divided into various sized pie shapes, each colored brightly in red, green, yellow and violet. At the time, I could not fathom the meaning of this circle, but later found it was an introduction to fractions.
Our teacher was a gray-haired woman named Luella Smith. We knew she had eyes in the back of her head because she was in- variably aware of any untoward behavior on the part of the pupils, even though writing on the blackboard. Her big home-made desk had ample room beneath it for the discipline of "sitting under the desk" - a terrible punishment. I do not remember Miss Smith as an individual very much. She was "teacher" and no more at that age.
I returned to Westfield for a time to stay with my Uncle Frank and Aunt Inda and attended third grade in the Normal Training School on Washington Street. On coming back to Blandford, I had Mabel Nye, a Blandford-born teacher. She became ill, and Flora Hall, another Blandfordite, took her place. She was experienced, and I know she gave us excellent training. Elizabeth Kempton and Irene Hadley were my last teachers in the lower room.
Miss Sarah Jones held forth in the upper room over the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. She was my last teacher in Blandford and I learned much from her. She was a flower lover, as Miss Hall was a bird watcher. Miss Jones had a contest to see who could bring in the greatest number of wild flowers. We came to school clutching a handful of rather wilted flowers each day. It was good training in observation, for many of these could have been passed by without thought. In later years, I found a big thrill in discovering delicate wildflowers, a clump of yellow lady slippers, purple fringed orchids in a swamp, and the glowing cardinal flower.
The day Miss Hope Whittlesey came was a red-letter day in the week for me. She was the drawing teacher and I remember the day she introduced us to related curves. I was fascinated with the lovely flowing lines and the designs to be made. She also grounded us well in perspective. There was nothing modern in her approach, but we did learn to see form and color.
Mr. Albert Smith, our music teacher, had excellent training at Cornell. He passed on to us knowledge which we could use whether or not we had good singing voices. His instruction stood me in good stead when I later took piano lessons.
FCGDAEB and BEADGCF, the positions of sharps and flats on the staff, were impressed upon us and we also learned that reading from the bottom, the spaces spelled FACE. The lines could be remembered by saying "Every Good Boy Does Finely." We also learned how to locate "do" according to the signatures.
Mr. Leon Merrill was the school superintendent at this time. He came perhaps once a month, driving a horse and buggy which he hitched to the flag pole in front of the school. We stood in awe of him but he probably was really a kindly man. It was his habit to interrogate the pupils in the various classes to acquaint himself with their progress. It often seemed that he heard only enough to satisfy himself as to the pupil's understanding. Then he would say, "That's sufficient." When we played school, we always had a superintendent who said the same thing.
We had no graduation exercises in those days. When I entered Westfield High School in the fall of 1916, I had no diploma stating I had satisfactorily completed grammar school. Instead I entered "on probation." In other words, I had to prove in the first few weeks that I was able to do work at the high school level. I still have the letter sent to my father by Mr. Merrill, who had checked my progress there, saying that I was doing very well.
My Blandford home was in what was sometimes called "Wymanville" or "Wyman's Corner." Horatio Wyman, the first of the name in Blandford, had settled here in 1840 and set up his blacksmith shop. From time to time some of his children built or lived nearby and descendants have continued there until this day.
From our house, the distance to school was 11⁄2 miles. In my day, there were at times a dozen pupils who trudged that road to school from Wymanville. No school busses whizzed us to and fro. We all carried lunches, usually in old lard pails. There were no thermos bottles then, and I remember many times when I used a hot, hard-boiled egg as a hand warmer on very cold days.
My lard pail became a weapon on one occasion, when one of the "state boys" staying with Uncle Ely Wyman had pestered me beyond endurance. I let him have it over the head and immediately was frightened at what I had done. He was not hurt badly though. He mended his ways and we became friends again.
Sometimes, when a thaw set in, it seemed as if we slipped back one step for every two taken as we went up the hill. I often took my beloved Flexible Flyer to school and could slide nearly all the way home. Traffic was not a thing of great danger then. Usually a teamster would turn out a bit to allow a sled to continue in the worn track.
At lunch time, we rarely ate our meal as it was prepared for us. "Who will trade for my cake?" or "Will you give me your piece of pie for my cookies?" were common questions. Somehow another's goodies seemed better. The school lunch program did not come until years later. We usually made short work of eating in order to get outside to play.
Our amusements during recess and the noon hour were not directed by an adult. We had no playground equipment, nor were we strictly confined to the school area. Sometimes small groups played together and at other times all joined in the games. Marbles, tops, and jump ropes did not enter into our play very much. City children went into these on a seasonal basis. We were inclined to invent our own activities.
Since school began right after the Union Agricultural Society Fair, nearly everyone gravitated to the fairgrounds to search for coins dropped near the concessions. Some were always found. We sometimes puffed our way around the race track, which meant trotting a half mile.
The outdoor games might be hop-scotch, tag, farmer-in-the-dell and many others which we knew. But other games seemed more interesting. A favorite was playing house in the pines behind the school. These houses were made by heaping pine needles into long windrows representing the walls of the house. Openings were left in the "walls" for doors and woe betide anyone who took a short cut instead of entering properly by the door.
"Pom-pom-pull-away" was a game we liked. Three lines were scratched, perhaps 12-15 feet apart, across the road down by the old cemetery. The players stood behind one of the outer lines and "It" was stationed at the center line. "It" called out "Pom- pom-pull-away. Come before I pull you away." The object of the game was to cross to the other outer line without being tagged by "It." Those tagged joined in catching the players until all were caught. Then the first person tagged became the next "It." It was a long drawn-out game and perhaps we never really finished before the bell rang for the afternoon school session.
In warm weather, the boys played a form of baseball. Sometimes they condescended to let the girls play and we were properly flattered by this.
A lot near the corner of Tannery Hill and Herrick Road drew our attention in the spring. As I remember it, this must have been pasture land. There was a huge chestnut tree which had fallen. While sitting astride this, one could imagine it to be Pegasus. In this lot we found, in early spring, lovely arbutus, so pink and fragrant.
In warmer weather, we girls sometimes took our lunches into the "Jack Mack" lot between Tannery Hill and North Blandford Road. After eating, we searched for and found delicious wild strawberries. This lot was open mowing then.
On rainy days, when we had to stay inside, we sometimes played "Black Magic." This was fun when most did not know the secret. Presumably only two knew it, the one who went into the anteroom while the rest decided on some object to be identified. Also the person who asked the questions. "Is it the teacher's desk, the window shade, the string of beads around Mary's neck, my green sweater, the black stove, the dictionary?" The last was correct and the clue was the black stove named just before the right answer - thus black magic.
We also played a game called "Gossip." A line of ten, twelve or more formed. The first person in line whispered a sentence to the second. This was passed on by whispers until the end of the line was reached. Then the last person repeated aloud what he had heard. The end result was never the same as the beginning and sometimes was hilarious when compared.
Playing Grange was another rainy day activity. The Grange room for us was the storage area for wood and no one was admitted without the important password. As I recall, we did nothing in particular in there, only sat on uncomfortable chunks of wood. The fun was in being one who was admitted. Lawrence Ripley was usually master of this Grange because his father held that office in the real Grange.
We sometimes played "fox and geese" in a trampled circle in the snow in front of the schoolhouse. Running back and forth and around kept us warm.
However, sliding was the chief occupation in winter. Many pupils brought their sleds and some of the bigger boys brought "double rips." These seated six or eight and really gathered speed. We started at the top of "church hill" and usually went straight down the street. Occasionally we turned left at Russell Road and thereby lengthened the slide. I remember once we did so and by swaying back and forth to keep up momentum when we slowed on the flat places, we were able to go as far as the old Second Division Road. It was one-thirty when we got back! Miss Jones asked why we were so late and all of us thought it would not have been safe to try to brake the speed by dragging our feet! She did not punish us and we thought we got off easy, but we did not reckon with the school committee. In a few days that august group ruled that no one was to turn into Russell Road thereafter.
There were school activities which we enjoyed. A spelling bee was great fun and was a contest within the school, not between schools. It was mortifying to be the first to sit down - not so embarassing if one was able to stand thru most of the harder words.
On one occasion, a little play, based on "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch" was given. John Peebles was one of the actors, taking the part of Billy. Gertrude Lester, whose long blond braids were perfect for the part, was Europena. The Wiggs family was preparing to go to the "Opery House" that evening. We squealed with laughter when John ironed Gertrude's braids with a flat iron while she knelt protesting on the floor beside the ironing board. All this was to make her hair frizzy later when unbraided.
For Memorial Day, we learned patriotic recitations and sang songs like "Tenting Tonight" and "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean." A Civil War veteran usually spoke to us. I recall one occasion when Charles B. Hayden, later to become my father-in-law, spoke to us. There were tears in his eyes as he told us of his experiences.
Walking home that 11⁄2 miles in May and June could be hot work. I used to take off my shoes and go barefoot after returning
until I became 13 years of age. Then my grandmother forbade it, saying I was a "young lady now" and it was not suitable. How my feet did miss that freedom. Often when I got home I drew up the milk can from the well and filled a glass with refreshingly cold milk. Sometimes I snitched some heavy cream from a pan and whipped it to top a piece of chocolate cake. Good!
On the last day of school all books and supplies were gathered up and put in the bookroom until fall. Then came the long anticipated school picnic. Usually we went to a pine grove out on the North Blandford Road, with a nearby open lot. We played games and ate many sandwiches and wonderful cakes. Lemonade was our thirst quencher. And of course we sang,
"No more pencils, no more books,
No more teacher's cross-eyed looks," but we really did not mean it and were glad to return to those self-same things in September.