Iowa Heritage Illustrated

Saltzman, Rachelle H

c
IOWA A R TS C O U N C IL  P H O T O  BY KAREN H E E G E
▲  F o lk life  t r a d it io n s  in c lu d e  th e  fo o d s  w e  m a k e .  H e r e ,  
Ly P h a m , o f  th e  Q u a d  C it ie s ,  d e m o n s t r a te s  th e  
p r o p e r  w a y  to  m a k e  V ie tn a m e s e  s p r in g  ro lls .
36 Iowa Heritage Illustrated
Traditions
by Rachel le H. Saltzman
W
e all have folklife—the traditions that make us 
who we are in our communities. Think broadly 
when you think of folklife traditions, because 
they include everything from children's jump rope 
rhymes to family stories, from fish tales to sales 
pitches, from recipes to superstitions, from polka 
music to wood carving, from birthday customs to 
office jokes. A group's folklife reflects that group's 
aesthetic or way of looking at the world.
Folklife or traditional culture is the everyday 
knowledge and skills that we pass from one to 
another, through imitation or word-of-mouth, rather 
than through formal training. Folklife includes the 
foods we cook for a family gathering, the way we 
organize help for a neighborhood disaster, and how 
we celebrate our town's basketball victory. In other 
words, folklife traditions give us, and the communi­
ties we belong to, a sense of identity.
Those communities often are geographic—a
I .
IA
IOW A ARTS C O U N C IL PHOTO 8Y  M ITCH FISCHLER
neighborhood, town, or region. But they might also be 
defined by religion, or by occupation or avocation (for 
j  example, a "community" of teachers or farmers,
factory workers or quilters). Family and relatives may 
be thought of as a community, even if they are spread 
across a nation or a globe. One of the most common 
definitions of community and bases of folklife tradi- 
I tion is ethnicity.
Before the 20th century, American Indian, Euro­
pean American, African American, and Latin Ameri­
can groups and individuals, as well as Americans 
| from the eastern states, all sought refuge in the region 
that became known as Iowa. They brought their foods, 
music, dance, song, rituals, spiritual beliefs, occupa­
tions, architecture, stories, jokes, and more. Individu­
als within these groups continued to produce their 
folklife, often in the face of considerable change and 
even disruption of everyday life.
But because folklife is a living process, traditions
I
Spring 2001 37
A  C a n n in g  foods e v e ry  s u m m e r  c o n tin u e s  as a t ra d it io n  
a m o n g  m a n y  Io w a  fa m ilie s . H e r e ,  D o n n a  W il l ia m s ,  o f  
V illisca , fills c a n n in g  ja rs  w ith  h e r  h o m e m a d e  a p p le s a u c e .
-V
S
!
IOW A APTS COUNCIL PHOTO BY RACHELLE H. SALTZWAN
38 Iozua Heritage Illustrated
evolve. Changes in language and available materials 
affect our traditions. Technology alters our way of 
life, and newcomers join our communities. American 
Indians in the 19th century, for example, traded 
beading techniques and patterns with other Indians 
and European settlers. African American quilters 
adapted their ways of creating quilts to conform to 
more symmetrical Anglo-American styles. In the 
upper Midwest, Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish 
musicians played together, blending their techniques 
and tunes to create what is now 
known as Scandinavian Old Time IOW A ARTS C O U N C IL  PHOTO BY STEVE OHRN
music. Turn-of-the-century Dutch 
tulip festivals in Orange City and 
Pella, once held primarily as a 
way to remind children of their 
heritage, have evolved into tourist 
attractions for visitors. Another 
example of Americanization is the 
phenomenon of Cinco de Mayo 
celebrations, which commemorate 
Mexico's 1862 victory over 
Napoleon's French army. For 
Latinos, the day is considerably 
less important than September 16,
Independence Day for Mexico and 
many Central and South American 
countries. Nonetheless, the catchi­
ness of the name and an age-old 
European tradition of May holidays 
to celebrate agricultural fertility 
have made Cinco de Mayo a much 
more popular date for community 
and school festivals.
As yet more new groups arrived in Iowa through­
out the 20th century, ethnic, occupational, religious, 
and family traditions continued to change. Iowa's 
recent history of refugee resettlement began in 1975, 
when Governor Robert Ray signed a contract with the 
U.S. State Department agreeing to take responsibility 
for the resettlement of 1,200 Tai Dam refugees from 
Southeast Asia. Since then, refugees have come to Iowa 
from at least 17 countries, with the largest numbers 
from Vietnam, Laos, Bosnia, and the Sudan. Accord- 
mg to the 2000 census, 1.3 percent of Iowans are of 
Asian heritage, and 2.8 percent are of Latino background.
Vet the folklife traditions of these newcomers
A  T h is  b a s k e t  o f  t r a d i t io n a l  C z e c h  
E a s te r  eg g s  w a s  c r e a te d  by a r t is t  
M a r jo r ie  N e jd l  o f  C e d a r  R a p id s .
<4 O r n a m e n t a l  w r o u g h t - i r o n  
w o r k e r  D o m in ic  R iz z u t i ,  o f  D e s  
M o in e s , d is p la y s  his a r t is a n s h ip .  
R iz z u t i  f i r s t  le a r n e d  b la c k s m ith in g  
as a  te e n  in Ita ly . W h e n  h e  i m m i ­
g r a te d  to  D e s  M o in e s , h e  w o r k e d  
f ir s t  w i th  I ta l ia n  iro n  a r t is a n s  a n d  
th e n  s ta r te d  his o w n  b u s in e ss .
Spiring 2001 39
IOWA A R TS COUNCIL. P H O T O  BY RICH H O R W ÍT2
▲  S h a n a w i  A u m  N a s s a r  o f  C e d a r  R a p id s  p r o u d l y  d is p la y s  a  p l a t t e r  o f  I r a q i  f l a t b r e a d .  L o c a l  I r a q is  o f t e n  g a t h e r  a t  
h e r  h o m e  f o r  d i n n e r  a n d  f e s t i v i t i e s  a n d  c o n s u l t  h e r  f o r  a d v ic e  o n  t r a d i t i o n a l  p r a c t i c e s .
40 Iowa Heritage Illustrated
A  M a r y  S c a v o  p r e p a r e s  t r a d i t io n a l  
I ta l ia n  s a u s a g e  fo r  h e r  f a m i ly ’s 
b u s in e s s  a n d  r e s t a u r a n t  in  D e s  
M o in e s , a  c ity  w i t h  a  s iz a b le  
I t a l ia n - A m e r ic a n  p o p u la t io n .
A A  c o rn  fe s t iv a l s ign  o ffe rs  a  
h e a r t y  “ w i l lk o m m e n ”  t o  v is ito rs  
o f  G la d b r o o k ,  a  T a m a  C o u n ty  
c o m m u n i t y  w h e r e  m a n y  o f  th e  
e a r ly  re s id e n ts  s p o k e  o n ly  
G e r m a n .
Spring 2001 41
have already begun to change to meet present-day 
circumstances. For example, just about every South­
east Asian New Year's celebration features a fashion 
show, which involves a parade of beautiful outfits, 
often displayed by mother-daughter pairs. Such 
events were unnecessary in the original country 
because this clothing was a part of everyday life; no 
one needed reminding of how women and girls 
traditionally dressed. Special foods, once considered 
everyday fare, are now reserved for holidays and 
other occasions because they are time-consuming and 
expensive to prepare in a new land.
Today, our state is witness to a host of old and 
new traditions that enrich our culture—from 
Meskwaki drumming, finger weaving, and powwows 
to Norwegian hardanger embroidery, fiddling, and 
lutefisk; from African American soul food, blues, and 
preaching styles to Danish rodkal, Old Time music, 
and folk dancing; from Nuer hairbraiding and drum­
ming to Tai Dam and Lao weaving and bowls of pho; 
from Amish quilts and Amana wines to Bosnian 
cilim, Somali smnbusas, and Mexican quincearlera 
celebrations.
Watch this new department—"Traditions"—in 
Iowa Heritage Illustrated for more close-up looks at 
Iowa's rich folklife and traditions in transition. Until 
then, enjoy the colorful celebration of Iowa traditions 
on the following pages, followed by a special an­
nouncement of an upcoming festival.
This issue's "Traditions" writer is Rachelle H. Saltzman, Folklife 
Coordinator for the Iowa Arts Council in the Department of
Cultural Affairs.
r n" i i » • &ucr Miwxf
ùüillkûmmen
BUCHANAN
I nwtiHii.
IOW A A R T S  COUNCIL, P H O T O  BY ERIN RO TH
i rV
A A r n h ild  H ild e s la n d , o f  A m e s , d e m o n s t r a te s  
t r a d i t io n a l  N o r w e g ia n  k n it t in g .  T r a d it io n  
b e a re rs  lik e  H ild e s la n d  a r e  th e  k e e p e rs  o f  
fo lk life ,  th r o u g h  t h e i r  sk ills , m e m o r y ,  a n d  
w illin g n e s s  to  te a c h  o th e r s .
42 Iowa Heritage Illustrated
IOWA A R TS C O U N C IL  P H O T O  BY RACHELLE H SALTZMAN

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IOWA A P T S  C O U N C IL  P H O T O  BY RACHELLE H SALTZMAN IOWA A R TS C O U N C IL  P H O T O  BY R A C H E IL E  H. SALTZMAN
46 Iowa Heritage Illus tra ted
▲  M e s k w a k i d a n c e rs  o f  a ll ages  
c e le b r a te  c o m m u n it y  a n d  s h a re  
t h e i r  t r a d i t io n s  w ith  th e  p u b lic  a t  
th e  a n n u a l M e s k w a k i P o w w o w  a t  
th e  M e s k w a k i S e t t le m e n t  n e a r  
T a m a .
IOW A ARTS C O U N C IL PHOTO BY KAREN HEEGE
◄  S u le jm a n  D o l ic ,o f  W a t e r lo o ,  
p lays an  in t r ic a te ly  h a n d -c a rv e d  
f lu te .  A  n a t iv e  o f  B o s n ia , D o lic  
h o n e d  his w o o d w o r k in g  sk ills  
d u r in g  his s ta y  in  a  C r o a t ia n  
re fu g e e  c a m p .
A  G o s p e l s in g e rs  a t  M t .  O l iv e  B a p t is t  
C h u rc h  in S io u x  C i t y  r e h e a r s e  fo r  
S u n d a y  s e rv ic e s . In te r e s t in g ly ,  t h e i r  
c h u rc h  b u ild in g  w a s  o n c e  a  Jew ish  
s y n a g o g u e  a n d  r e ta in s  m a n y  fe a tu r e s  
o f its  f o r m e r  c o n g r e g a n ts ’ c u l tu r e .
► Immerse yourself in lowas 
traditions at upcoming festivals 
and institutes this June. Turn 
the page for information on 
how to participate.


English

Traditions

Swaim, Ginalie

Iowa's Rural Schools in the 20th Century

Bergman, Marvin

Reading the Past
Editor's note: In this new department, "Reading the 
Past, " Marvin Bergman, editor of The Annals of 
Iowa, will introduce selected books of pertinence and 
interest to general readers keen on Iowa and the past.
ASK IOWANS what they are most proud of about 
their state, and one of the most common answers will 
be public education. Oddly, however, despite a wide­
spread popular interest in the history of country 
schools, professional historians have given little 
attention to the history of public education in Iowa. 
When they have, they have generally followed the 
model established by Clarence Aurner. Between 1914 
and 1920 he wrote a thorough, five-volume history of 
educational policy, oversight, and teacher training 
that included histories of individual statewide educa­
tional institutions in Iowa. In the 1980s Keach Johnson 
and Carroll Engelhardt mined instructive details and 
insights from the official reports of the Iowa Depart­
ment of Public Instruction, the proceedings of the 
Iowa State Teachers Association, and the writings of 
the state's educational administrators for a series of 
articles that each wrote for the State Historical 
Society's scholarly journal, The Annals of Iowa.
But, aside from some biographical work on 
women schoolteachers, historians have paid little 
attention to how official policies and reformers' pre­
scriptions actually played out in the field. University 
of Iowa geographer David Reynolds has now begun 
to correct that oversight in his book There Goes the 
Neighborhood: Rural School Consolidation at the Grass 
Roots in Early Twentieth-Century Iowa. The book won 
the State Historical Society of Iowa's Benjamin F. 
Shambaugh Award, recognizing it as the most signifi­
cant book on Iowa history published in 1999.
In the first half of There Goes the Neighborhood, 
Reynolds describes the context within which school 
consolidation took placy in the early 20th century.
Here he describes the forces that were the impetus for 
school reform—and many other reform movements— 
in Iowa during the Progressive Era. Prominent among 
those forces was the branch of the Progressive move­
ment most concerned about rural America, the Country 
Life Movement. Much of this discussion is quite 
abstract and theoretical and may discourage some 
general readers of the book. But they should persevere 
(or skim), because the payoff comes in the second half 
of the book, where Reynolds zooms in on the move­
ment to consolidate schools in one county, Delaware 
County, and eventually one rural community, the
Buck Creek neighborhood in rural Delaware County.
There the storv of school consolidation becomes
more complicated—and more dynamic—than the
usual straightforward story of educational reform
yielding steady progress. Buck Creek was a virtual
battleground between the forces promoting school
reform and consolidation and those who saw' the
benefits of preserving traditional values in that rural
community—or group of communities. The main
characters in this drama include a group of Roman
Catholic farmers in this predominantly Protestant
neighborhood, the Ku Klux Klan, and, perhaps most
importantly, a dynamic Methodist minister imbued
with the values of the Country Life Movement and
«/
the Social Gospel, the religious form of the Progres­
sive movement.
There are no clear heroes and villains in Reynolds's 
telling; this is not a story of 
enlightened reformers being 
resisted by ignorant rubes. Here 
his work joins that of people 
such as Wayne Fuller and Paul 
Theobald, who have argued 
that the country schools of the 
past were not the dismal 
failures educational reformers 
have portrayed them as, but 
instead were the carriers of 
values that we can continue to 
learn from as we debate how to 
reform the schools of today.
Reynolds is sensitive to the 
religious, ethnic, and class 
differences that contributed to 
the dynamic character of this 
rural neighborhood. Differences 
that could be accommodated in 
the decentralized schools of the 
community were heightened
when reformers proposed consolidation in a central 
location with preference given to a particular set of 
values. Debates about school consolidation, Reynolds 
concludes, are about much more than simply the 
quality of rural schools; they go to the heart of our 
understanding of the nature of the communities wre 
live in. As such, There Goes the Neighborhood is a 
rewarding book not only for those w'ho are interested 
in the history of education, but for those w'ho care 
about our schools and communities today and into 
the future. —by Marvin Bergman
There Goes the Neighborhood: Rural School 
Consolidation at the Grass Roots in Early Twenti­
eth-Century Iowa, by David R. Reynolds. Iowa 
City: University of Iowa, 1999. xii. 306 pp 
Photographs, maps, tables, figures, notes, ap­
pendix, bibliography, index. $39.95 cloth.
Fall 2001 131


New Department! Reading the Past

Iowa Architect of Acoustics Designed Fort Dodge & Sioux City Bandshells

Ohrn, Steven

With Skill and Stories, Fred Stice Carved Iowa's Past

Kibler, M Alison

The world over here is so different': Alice Ettinger's Musical Career

Horton, Loren N

/ / Creativity was not encouraged
Attending a One-Room School in the 1940s
by Loren N. Horton
/ /
I
 started to school at Brushwood 
#5 in the fall of 1938, and at that 
time a "primary" grade preceded 
first grade. Although I began in primary,
I was promoted to first grade after the 
first two months. Perhaps this was be­
cause my parents had taught me to read 
and count before I started to school.
Generally attendance ranged from 
10 to 15 students during the school year, 
in all grades combined. Actually not all 
grades were represented in the school 
every year. Sometimes there was one 
other student in my grade, and some­
times there were as many as four. Al­
though attendance was usually pretty 
good, the student body fluctuated as 
farmers who rented land moved in or 
out of the district. Since this event always happened on 
the first day of March, it meant students moved in and 
out of the district at that time too.
Our schoolhouse was a rectangular wooden build­
ing, painted white, but not painted very frequently. The 
windows on the north and south sides were without 
screens but did have large mesh wire nailed over the 
outside, perhaps to deter breakage. During my third 
grade the school acquired what were called "ventila­
tors," sliding metal devices in wooden frames, which 
could be placed under the sash of an open window, al­
lowing some fresh air tacome in, but not flies and bees. 
The door, on the east end, did not fit tightly, and rain 
and snow sometimes crept in.
Inside, opposite the door, a blackboard and Palmer 
Method letter sheets covered the west wall, with the 
teacher's desk and chair and a recitation bench in front. 
One of the big blackboard sections was cracked and was 
held together with bolts. I remember that the crack used 
to look like a river running across the board. We used 
white chalk and had to take the erasers out to the ce­
ment slab in front of the front door and pound the dust 
out of them periodically. Sometimes that was a reward 
and sometimes that was a punishment.
L o r e n  H o r t o n  in  t h i r d  g r a d e .
If we had maps I don't remember 
ever seeing them. Neither did we have 
a picture of George Washington or 
Abraham Lincoln hanging on the walls. 
We did have a flag, which was mounted 
on a pole on the northeast exterior cor­
ner. But we did not have a flag at all for 
at least the first three years I attended.
The younger students sat on the 
north side of the school room, at smaller 
desks. There were both double and 
single desks, and they were individu­
ally screwed to the floor, not to mov­
able planks. A compartment or bin un­
der the fixed tops of the desks held 
books and tablets. Each desk had a 
grooved slot for pencils and a round 
hole for an ink well. We never used ink 
all the six years I attended Brushwood.
I started to school with a #2 lead pencil, a box of 
Crayolas, and a Big Chief tablet, which had a red cover 
with a drawing of a Plains Indian, complete with feather 
headdress. The lines were widely spaced and the paper 
was cheap pulp. Each student also had a foot ruler, a 
rubber eraser, and a jar of paste. I don't recall any other 
school supplies.
T
he school day allowed for a morning recess, an 
afternoon recess (each about 15 minutes 
long, and this included time for a trip to the boys' 
or girls' outhouse), and an hour noon break. In good 
weather we ate the noon meal outside, and in bad 
weather we ate it at our desks. We carried this meal from 
home in what we called "dinner buckets." Mine was 
filled with such things as sandwiches, fresh fruit (apples, 
pears, or grapes when they were in season), and, quite 
often, a boiled egg. Sometimes there were cookies or a 
piece of cake—of course, "homemade." The sandwiches 
were always on "boughten bread," and the filling might 
be "boughten" bologna, or "boughten" peanut butter, 
or "boughten" cheese, or maybe a fried egg or jelly. Each
Fall 2001 107
E u la  O v e r h o l t z e r  
a n d  B e t t y  P e t e r ­
so n  ( r i g h t )  t a u g h t  
a t  B r u s h w o o d  # 5 .
item was carefully wrapped in wax paper by my mother.
A water bucket sat on a bench in the back of the 
schoolroom. Everyone drank from the same dipper, and 
I don't remember anyone having a separate glass or cup 
to use. Actually, 1 don't really remember ever taking a 
drink of water. There was a washpan for washing hands 
but I don't remember ever using that either, and I have 
no recollection of soap or towel.
Neither do I remember ever having to carry water 
from a neighboring house, although it must have been 
done, because the school well, located in the vicinity of 
the frog pond, had holes in the cover through which 
rabbits and other small animals and birds fell into the
water. It was not onlv unfit to drink or wash with, it✓
smelled really bad.
D
uring the summer, the grass and weeds in the 
school yard had plenty of time to grow tall, 
and just prior to school starting it was the job 
of one of the directors to mow the tall, thick-stemmed 
weeds. After that, of course, the weeds were like spikes 
sticking up from the ground. Since we usually went 
barefooted for the first few weeks of school, these sharp 
weed stalks added an element of risk and danger.
Clumps of buck brush and stands of oak and shag- 
bark hickory trees covered about three-quarters of the 
school grounds, so shinnying up tree trunks and jump­
ing down was a common recess activity. One time I mis­
calculated and landed on one of the weed stalks. Some 
days later a large chunk of stalk emerged from the bot­
tom of my foot. It seemed about a foot long at the time 
but was actually about half an inch. Anyway, it was long 
enough to hurt a lot. There was no school nurse, nor 
did the situation require a doctor. After I arrived home 
that afternoon (having walked home barefooted on the 
dirt road), my parents soaked my foot in kerosene and 
then put iodine on it. I had to wear shoes to school from 
then on. For several years following, that piece of stalk 
was kept in a glass bottle.
That experience paled beside the time one year 
when I went to school barefooted on September 26 and 
it snowed during the day. No one brought me any shoes 
so I walked home barefooted in the snow that afternoon.
That mile between home and Brushwood seemed 
much longer when the weather was really cold, or the 
roads were really muddy. But I often detoured through 
neighbor's pastures to avoid the mud. I had to be care­
ful about that, because animals would be in the pas­
ture, and sometimes the ram, the boar, or the bull could 
be mean.
The plum thickets, grape vines, sumac brush, and
osage orange hedge rows between our house and the 
school invited dawdling on the way home, although 
not on the way to school. On rare occasions a student 
would bring to school a "hedge ball" or "hedge apple" 
from the osage orange trees, and we would spend re­
cess throwing it at each other. If it hit someone, its sticky 
white juice made a real mess on clothes and in hair.
During recess or the noon hour, other unorganized 
games included fistfighting and wrestling and chasing 
one another. I don't recall any grievous injuries from 
these activities. On rainy or snowy days when we had 
to play inside, a favorite game was Hide the Thimble. 
For quieter times, we made Cat's Cradle out of string 
or formed Church and Steeple with our hands.
Among our organized games were Drop the Hand­
kerchief, Fox and Geese, Blackman, Hide and Seek, and 
Johnny May I Cross Your River. The latter game in­
volved everyone lining up and one person being "it." 
Someone in the line would ask: "Johnny, may I cross 
your river?" The person who was "it" would say: "Yes, 
you may cross my river if you are wearing something
_____" and then name a color. Then everyone in the
line would run to another line, and the person who was 
"it" would try to touch someone, hoping that the per­
son was not wearing anything of the color announced. 
If the person who was "it" succeeded, then the touched 
person became "it." Often I deliberately carried to school
108 Iowa Heritage Illustrated
a handkerchief with a border of red, blue, green, brown, 
and yellow. I was trying to be prepared.
Another favorite game was Andy Over, which in­
volved one side throwing a basketball over the roof of 
the-coal shed to students on the other side. I remember 
the game only vaguely, but part of the point of it was to 
catch the ball on the other side, and then run around 
the building and throw the basketball as hard as one 
could at the students who had thrown it.
During my second-grade year a basketball hoop and 
bang board were erected southeast of the school house, 
and also two poles with a cross bar that was to test jump­
ing ability. (I was entered in the county jumping con­
test that year in Osceola but failed to clear anything 
higher than the third rung.) We even had a basketball 
that year, but I don't remember using it to play basket­
ball as often as it was used to play Andy Over.
E
xcept for Mansel Burchett, all of the teachers were 
from out of the neighborhood. That meant that 
they had to take room and board with some fam­
ily in the neighborhood during the week. Usually they 
stayed with one family the whole term of school, al­
though I understand that it was the custom in some 
other districts for the parents to take turns giving hous­
ing and meals to the teacher.
The county superintendent of schools, Ada 
Tillotson, used to come on periodic visits. I suppose this 
must have been stressful for the teachers, but I looked
B r u s h w o o d  s t u ­
d e n ts  p o s e  o u ts id e  
t h e i r  s c h o o l  in  
I 9 4 4 .  T h e  a u t h o r ,  
L o r e n  H o r t o n ,  is in  
t h e  c e n t e r ,  b a c k  
ro w .
forward to Miss Tillotson"s visits. She was a friend of 
my family, and besides that, she brought books from 
the county library that we could keep until her next visit. 
Then we exchanged them for different ones. (During 
the summer my parents would take me to her office in 
the courthouse in Osceola, and Miss Tillotson would 
again let me borrow books from the county library to 
take home to read. That was a real treat. I don't know if 
other students got to do that or not, but I really appreci­
ated it.)
Our textbooks were usually either borrowed from 
older students or purchased from the Woolworth's 5 & 
10 cent store in Osceola. There were two books in the 
school library about astronomy, and I remember read­
ing them during times when I had my assigned lessons 
completed. A white enamel metal cabinet along the 
south wall contained the "library," although there 
weren't many books in it. We did have a big dictionary. 
We also had a globe, although it was cracked and fell 
off of its stand when it was whirled.
One curious incident occurred during geography 
class one day. We were studying France, and the name 
of the city of Bordeaux was mentioned in the text. No 
one knew how to pronounce it except me, and the oth­
ers, including the teacher, seemed to doubt that I was 
pronouncing it correctly. The reason I knew it was pro­
nounced "bor-dough" was that my uncle Harvey had 
been stationed there during World War I. The other stu­
dents and the teacher all pronounced it as "bor-dee-ax."
I was very bad in arithmetic and would sometimes
Fall 2001 109
secretly take home problems because I couldn't get them 
done at school. 1 thought that was not permitted, but 
actually I doubt if anyone knew or cared. Homework 
was not a concept with which we were familiar.
Science was not emphasized, and I don't remember 
a single science lesson during the entire six years. One 
fall we were sent out into the nearby timber to collect 
samples of leaves and seeds. Perhaps that was for sci­
ence. We did decorate the schoolroom with bittersweet 
berries and colorful leaves during the fall.
The school possessed a Victrola and three records 
(one of them was cracked), and that was our music in­
struction. The only songs 1 recall having to sing were 
"Do You Know the Muffin Man" and "Row, Row, Row 
Your Boat" (sung in unison, not as a round).
Art was occasionally taught and usually involved 
cutting out construction paper patterns. These often 
represented holidays, both in color and in subject mat­
ter. We would cut out orange pumpkins and black 
witches at Halloween, brown turkeys and black pilgrims 
at Thanksgiving, green evergreen trees, white snowmen, 
and red bells at Christmas, red hearts and red flowers 
at St. Valentine's Day, and brown rabbits and multicol­
ored eggs at Easter (that is when the box of Crayolas 
came in handy). Often the results of this art were pasted
SCHOOL REPORT 
CARD
CLARKE COUNTY, IOWA
S A L U T E
"I pledge cllcglcnco to the Flog of the United Stotes 
of Americo ond to the republic for which it »tands; ono 
Notion Indivbible, with liberty and justico for oil.'1
Township
Classi ficotion for 
Next Yeor
Plecio keep this report neat and clean. When you enter 
school next year, present It for Inspection.
ADA M. TILLOTSON, 
Superintendent of Schools.
Form 5IA-2. Kllpto.
y\
to the window glass so that people driving by could 
admire them. Other art projects were drawing trees, 
which were geometrically measured so that the trunks 
were parallel lines and the foliage had to be a certain 
proportion wider than the trunk. Creativity was not 
encouraged in art—nor in much else.
Some teachers would read to the entire school body 
the first thing in the morning. I remember such books 
as Susan Beware!, Leather Pants, and That Printer of Udell's 
being read. Interest in the latter waned, and the teacher 
never finished the book.
When a grade ahead of me was reciting, I would 
listen, so that when I actually got into that grade the 
next year 1 had a head start and already knew much of 
the material. We were often asked to memorize decla­
mations and poems, and I still remember the opening 
lines of some. Among those I memorized were "The 
Landing of the Pilgrims," "The Boy Stood on the Burn­
ing Deck," the first stanzas of "Hiawatha" and 
"Evangeline," "The Charge of the Light Brigade," "Con­
cord Hymn," "The Blue and the Gray," "The Children's 
Hour," "The Village Blacksmith," and probably some 
others. I never had any difficulty in doing the actual 
memorization, but 1 sometimes faltered when the time 
came to recite in front of the class. I was not yet confi­
dent enough to speak well in public.
We received report cards at the end of each six 
weeks' period. Flags decorated the front of the folded 
report card (left), and on the back was a space for a 
student's deportment grade. (I distinctly remember that 
on the brown folder in which my report card was en­
closed was an advertisement for Lamoree's funeral 
home in Osceola.)
Since my mother and father had each been school 
teachers earlier in their lives, they contributed to my 
learning process. Among other things, they assigned me 
to learn the names of all the state capitals and all the 
counties of Iowa. I learned the counties from a map, by 
going from left to right, beginning with the row on the 
northern border. I also learned the numbers of the coun­
ties in alphabetical order, something that used to be on 
the automobile license plates. To this day I think of 
Clarke County as Number 20.
My father tried, rather in vain, to teach me to do 
rapid calculation in my head, a skill he learned while 
attending Iowa Business College in Des Moines. I never 
quite mastered it. My mother expanded my historical 
and literary horizons by reading to me and then by hav­
ing me read from her textbooks of Greek mythology 
and stories of the Punic Wars. I knew more about Icarus 
and Pericles and Hannibal and people like that than I 
did about people alive in the 20th century. These things
were more interesting and real than some things that 
might have proved to be practical or useful.
%
B
ecause our home did not yet have electricity or 
radio on December 7,1941, we did not hear about 
the bombing of Pearl Harbor until the next day, 
when we were in a store in Creston. We did subscribe 
to a newspaper, but since it came by Rural Free Deliv­
ery, it was always delivered a day later than the date on 
the paper itself.
We got electricity on December 23, 1941, through 
REA—the Rural Electrification Administration, part of 
the so-called "alphabet agencies" of Franklin D. 
Roosevelt's New Deal. Thereafter I often listened to the 
radio before and after school. I remember listening to 
Uncle Stan and Cowboy Ken on radio station WHO from 
7:45 to 8:00 a.m., so I must have started to school after 
8:00. That program was sponsored by Cocoa Wheats 
cereal, so of course I ate my Cocoa Wheats while I lis­
tened. The program also included an "electric eye" 
through which the hosts claimed they could watch boys 
and girls during the "dressing race." Curiously enough, 
one week the boys would win three of the five days, 
and the next week the girls would win three of the five 
days. The show also advertised items that could be ob­
tained by sending in so many box tops from the Cocoa 
Wheats package. Among the prizes I got that way were 
a telephone (consisting of two cardboard microphones 
connected by a piece of string), and a decoder ring that 
glowed in the dark.
My favorite afternoon programs included jack 
Armstrong, Captain Midnight, and Terry and the Pirates. 
Of course I had to make sure that my chores were com­
pleted on time or I wouldn't get to listen to any of them. 
It was when I turned on the radio one April afternoon 
to listen to jack Armstrong that I first heard the news of 
the death of President Roosevelt. All regular program­
ming was interrupted. I ran out to my parents, who were 
working in the garden, to tell them. They came in to 
listen too, and chores were not done on time that night.
W
e seldom had visitors at school other than the
county superintendent of schools. Sometimes 
somebody's mother would come for a half 
hour or so and sit in the back of the room, making ev­
eryone nervous. I don't ever remember anyone's father 
coming to visit. But the whole neighborhood did come 
to the Christmas programs, the pie and box suppers, 
and the cake walks. Students had to clean up the school- 
house before those events and make sure that books and
B o o k s  u s e d  by  t h e  u p p e r  g ra d e s  a t  B r u s h w o o d  in  t h e  1 9 4 0 s .
tablets were securely in the bins beneath the desks.
Cleaning the schoolhouse included sweeping it, of 
course. The floor was made of rough boards, and in or­
der to keep down the dust and dirt the teacher would 
use sweeping compound, an oily, reddish stuff that 
looked a bit like sawdust. It was not pleasant when some 
of it got down the back of a student's neck while the 
student was wearing long underwear, which we all did 
from November to March. The only way the sweeping 
compound could get down a student's neck was if an­
other student put it down there. It happened on occasion.
On the night of a community event, kerosene lan­
terns lit the schoolhouse (it was not wired for electric­
ity). Pie suppers, box suppers, oyster soup suppers, and 
cake walks—all of which had nothing to do with 
school—were held in the schoolhouse. For the cake 
walk, people walked around in a circle, stopped by a 
particular cake, and then sat down to eat it with the
Fall 2001 111


"Creativity was not encouraged" : Attending a One-Room School in the 1940s

Horton, Lowell E

Everyone had a part'

Iowa Heritage Illustrated, vol.82 no.4, Winter 2001

Horton, Harvey R

Attending a One-Room School in the 1920s, '30s, and 40s - 'You learn about people'