Mrs. Potter eased off on Fridays – sort of – beginning in the morning when we exercised our minds by learning to memorize poetry. Whoever nailed the poem first was a winner. If you were good at rote learning that could be fun. If you weren’t – so what. You were probably not destined to be reciting poetry as you spread muck over fields or milked half a dozen cows on a daily basis. Yet, think of all of the wonderful Country and Western stars we now enjoy, most of whom write their own lyrics! Mind you, I think that mucking and milking have now been automated. However, some dairy farmers believe that music is good for cows and prepare suitable play lists for their bovine ladies.
On Friday our teacher began the afternoon by reading another chapter of a book- Treasure Island for example, a routine probably intended to “settle” us for the afternoon. After that we “met” for our Red Cross meeting. Supporting The Red Cross was part of the Rosebush war effort. Our troops were fighting the enemy in Britain and Europe and indirectly in several other countries. There were lots of enemies to go round but in the end, enough allies to stave off the intentions of Germany, Italy and Japan. Every student was invited to donate a quarter to the cause – more if you could afford it, less if you were part of a big family. Geography took on new relevance during the war and Mrs. Potter made the most of the situation.
After the meeting we looked forward to Free Time that would be broken briefly by recess and then continued until the bell rang for home time. While we ‘free timed’ our teacher corrected tests, recorded the results and brought her register up to date.
We could catch up on homework, write stories, draw – Jimmy liked to draw cars and airplanes, Rosemary loved to draw horses. I probably read??? We could also paint using water colours from our respective paint boxes. Mrs. Potter often gave us tips from her Banff experience where she had attended art classes.
On this Friday during our afternoon recess I had been chased around the yard by Jimmy, who had been armed with a handful of burrs that he’d gleefully tangled into my generous supply of long hair. Maybe he had a crush on me? Mrs. Potter promptly parked me on her ample lap and proceeded to remove every last burr. She was not about to let me go home with a head full of burrs. Just what happened to Jimmy I don’t recall. Perhaps he was made to stay after school to clean the blackboards and bat the brushes! As Mrs. Potter untwined the prickly mess the rest of the class carried on happily with their free time. I had lost mine and Mrs. Potter had not completed her administrative tasks.
