Chapter 9 - Ready to Say Goodbye -- Sixth Grade

1956-1957

Scotch Settlement School in 2014

Scotch Settlement School in 2014

     Miss E. Lucille Webster and Scotch Settlement School are almost synonymous in my mind. “Webby, ” as we called her when she couldn’t hear, was very strict. Our spelling words were marked wrong if the dot on the “i” was not directly overhead or if the cross bar on the “t” was crooked. We had to stand up to recite and go up to the blackboard in front of all the students to answer math problems. This was not so terribly different from our previous years; Miss Webster just seemed a bit more vigilant.

     Handwriting was apparently so vital to our sixth grade education that we were required to use old-fashioned inkwells and metal quill tip pens, dipping the tip in for more ink as our writing became thin and scratchy. It was easy to drip permanent ink on our papers. I learned that I was more tolerant of the splotches than my teacher was. We were required to keep several ink tips of varying widths and to use “blue black” ink. Andy remembers having to search several stores throughout sixth grade to find “blue black,” which was apparently not a popular ink color.

      Miss Webster placed dark green cardboard panels above the blackboards around the room with the ideal cursive letters formed in white so that we would have no excuse for a poorly formed letter. I believe it was the D’Nealian cursive style. She taught us that penmanship requires the use of your entire body and that you begin by placing your feet firmly on the floor. You sit straight but lean forward so that your arms and hands are a lovely extension of the entire act. It was interesting to me that my classmates and I formed our cursive lettering in the same D’Nealian style in our grade school years yet within months of sixth grade graduation, our individual cursive styles widely diverged. Today I’m quite embarrassed by my illegible script but tell myself that if necessary I can still produce a rough facsimile of Webby’s required cursive writing. Self-delusion is sometimes okay.

      I believe Miss Webster thought it her job to review everything we ever learned in school during our sixth grade year so that we would be ready for the new world of junior high in a public school where most of us were headed. So in addition to updating and reviewing our handwriting skills, she brought back the mathematics basics. We were positively drilled in basic addition so that we could add long lists of number quickly up in front of the class: “Two and six are eight and four are twelve and seven are nineteen and nine are twenty-eight and six are…” Quickly. Actually, I gained a great deal of confidence in my addition skills but really disliked the process.

      We studied Indonesia and probably other Asian countries and were put in study groups. I remember the islands of Sumatra and Java. We added two states to the Union this year, Alaska and Hawaii, and we learned about them. I remember being struck by the stark contrasts between the two. I was finally healthy enough to have my tonsils out and I remember receiving get-well notes as a class project while I was out. Toward the end of the school year we wrote our autobiography which is one project that gave me lots of pleasure. I still have it.

Sixth grade graduation was a big deal. The girls wore pastel dresses and the boys wore suit coats. It was the first time that I was allowed to wear nylon stockings and a garter belt and I was thrilled beyond words to be so mature.

      There was a special ceremony. We sang songs, recited poems and showed off our skills. We walked our parents through Scotch Settlement School to show off our oil paintings and autobiographies. They spoke to Miss Webster. Everybody smiled and spirits were high. I felt like I loved every one of my classmates dearly; all discord from earlier years forgotten. It was a great day.

      We were very happy to be leaving Greenfield Village behind even though I was a sentimental little kid. I was ready to move on. I believe that the Greenfield Village Schools prepared me well for the academics that were to follow and my understanding and appreciation of American history was surely inspired by my years in those historical buildings. We were given some unique opportunities to experience a part of America’s past and I’m grateful to my parents for having made the choice to send me to the Village. If I still don’t know one end of an automobile from another or the warp from the woof in a loom, I certainly can’t blame the Edison Institute for that. They did their best.