Schools of Yesteryear
East Sherman Memories, Part 2
By Janis Stein

Join me in the continuation as one East Sherman lad reminisces about driving his teacher’s car up an icy hill on the way to school as well as other recollections of the children sometimes battling the elements on their route to school.

All throughout East Sherman’s history, Ante I Over was a popular game. Of course, the ball would occasionally lodge itself behind the chimney in the belfry. On one isolated occasion, one student was allowed to climb up the inside of the schoolhouse to free the ball. This was deemed unsafe, however, and from then on a school board official was called upon to retrieve the ball. When overzealous students pulled too hard on the bell rope in the 1920s, the result caused the bell to swing past its center, rendering the bell useless until an officer of the board could pay a visit to flip over the bell.

Children traveled to East Sherman from the surrounding area on foot across the field or down the road, by bicycle if the weather allowed and by car if a student was lucky enough to find a relative or neighbor traveling in the right direction. There was a quite a bit of marsh land along the way, and if students were taking a short cut through the woods, there were always mud puddles and a creek to cross. The trick was making it to school without getting wet feet. One former student fondly remembers catching a ride with a neighbor lady. She always slid her wheels when she stopped and spun when she took off down the road!

Children always found things along the way to amuse them. During one of the winters in the 1920s, a neighboring farmer had a horse that died and, since the ground was frozen and burial wasn’t possible, the dead horse was deposited in a fence row until the spring. Boys were often curious about such things, so many times that winter the horse was examined while on their route to school.

East Sherman students battled the wind and cold to make it to their morning destination. On one occasion in the 1920s a group of neighboring children were sticking together as they always did on their journey. A strong cold wind out of the west whipped at them, snatching their breath away. It was decided one of the older boys in the group would lead the way and blaze the trail. The children followed along in a single-file fashion, thankful the friend or sibling in front of them was breaking the wind. Keep in mind during the good old days it was just as common, if not more so, to see a horse on the road as it was a car. The children were making their way just as fine as you please when all of a sudden the leader of the group stubbed his toe on a pile of horse dung. As the lad tripped, he was unable to recover his balance, so he braced himself for the fall. The other children in his wake no doubt were walking with their heads down, and didn’t see their leader drop. One by one just like dominoes, all the children fell in succession!

The children always bundled up appropriately for their trip to school, as did their teacher. One of the female teachers always wore men’s woolen hunting socks over her shoes, thinking it would prevent her from slipping.

Children had to be careful, too, on their route home. The hills on Edwards Road proved to be dangerous one day when a young girl riding her bike was hit by a car. The accident could have been much worse; all she suffered was a very sore ankle. For the most part, though, the children had a lot of fun along the way in the morning and back home again in the afternoon.

During the late 1950s, the teacher of East Sherman had her own difficulties reaching the schoolhouse on one particularly blustery morning. As she traveled down Edwards Road, she did so with great care; since the hill north of the school was extremely icy, she was scared to drive very fast on her descent. Once on the bottom, she quickly discovered she didn’t have the speed necessary to make it to the top of the hill. One of the boys about 12 years of age, who lived in the area, smiled at her dilemma as he made his way on foot to school.

The young man was quite sure he was a better driver than his teacher, since he already had plenty of driving experience on the farm. He noted the old Valiant was a stick-shift when he leaned in and offered to drive his teacher’s car the remaining distance to the school. She gladly slid over since her attempts were literally getting her nowhere. The lad backed the Valiant up as well as he could, and it was just enough distance to give him the necessary run he needed to make it to the top. Although good citizenship wasn’t taught as a class at the school, it was naturally engrained in the children. Being neighborly was simply a way of life. And it didn’t hurt to have a good story to tell your buddies about how you were the one to drive the teacher’s car!

Upon arrival at the school, the children entered the schoolhouse eager to feel the heat from the stove. In the early days a small entry was built on the front of the school, because the wind had a ferocious habit of snatching the door out of even the strongest hands. Years later, though, this small addition was removed for whatever reason. There was a fairly wide cement porch in front of the building, and the children entered a door that led immediately into the main structure of the schoolhouse. Inside, they stomped off any snow, neatly hanging their coats and storing their boots below. The girls stored their lunch boxes on shelves in the southwest corner of the school, and the boys’ designated area was in the northwest corner, directly west of the furnace.

Many children over the years brought a potato to school as part of their lunch. They deposited their potatoes on top of the stove, and let them bake while they studied their morning lessons. Along with his baked potato, one former student remembers eating canned sausage, which had quite a strong garlic flavor. Other children had sandwiches filled with peanut butter and jelly, plain butter or whatever was left over from the previous night’s supper. One lad in the 1920s had a hankering for crackers, and he crunched his way through many a lunch.

Be sure to look for the continuation in next month’s issue where I will share some impish pranks pulled by some of the East Sherman boys.

If you would like to see your schoolhouse featured in this series and are willing to share your experiences, please email Janis at janis@lakeshoreguardian.com or write to Janis at The Lakeshore Guardian, 9697 Purdy Rd., Harbor Beach, MI 48441.

Copyright © 2005 Janis Stein

Correction: In last month’s issue, Miss Lucille Hannah’s last name should have read ‘Hanna’. Miss Hanna is said to have referred to East Sherman School as the North School. Perhaps it can be surmised the North School name dated back prior to White Rock Township merging with Sherman Township. Miss Hanna was a stickler for punctuality and, to overcome the potential of tardiness due to inclement weather, she moved closer to the school, boarding with the Jack Edwards family. Special thanks to Pat McCollough for setting the record straight.