September 2005—Waverly School

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Dear Theo, Sage and Nina,

It seems so very long since we have seen you. We miss you and wish we could just run next door to see how you are doing. We love you even though we can’t be with you. and now I will tell you about my school when I was your age:

Waverly School

When I visited my parent in New York last year I walked up to see my old school, which was called Waverly School. It is an old brick building, built about the time of the First World War. On the side of the building is the same motto as at BYU, “Enter to learn; go forth to serve.” In back of the school is a large playground, which today looks very much like it did when I was a student there. Seeing it brought back many memories, some happy and others not so happy. I will tell you a couple of memories that remain with me.

When I was in kindergarten my teacher was Mrs. Ralston. Later she became my principal. I liked Mrs. Ralston. I remember stringing popcorn and cranberries on thread to make Christmas decorations in her class. I remember that one rainy day I put my umbrella up in her classroom and poked a little girl in the eye. Fortunately, she wasn’t badly hurt, but I felt terrible, and Mrs. Ralston was upset with me.

Perhaps my most difficult teacher was Mrs. Pidgeon, in the fourth grade. She was very particular about words, and when someone would say, “Can I go to the bathroom?” (instead of “May I go to the bathroom?”) she would say, “Tin cans! Tin cans!” She was cranky and had a high, squeaky voice.

I think my favorite teacher was Miss Betty Zehner in the fifth grade. She was fat and jolly, wore bright red lip stick, and laughed all the time. She loved all the children in her class. She also loved history told great stories. I was happy to go to school that year, especially after the year with Mrs. Pidgeon!

One more thing I liked about school was walking home. On the way home was a vacant lot with a big mulberry tree beside the road. It was a perfect climbing tree, and I liked to climb up onto its lower branches and look out at the pretty meadow behind it. I liked to pretend I was in different places and to make collections of things I found around the tree and in the meadow. I guess my mom knew where I was because she didn’t seem to worry if I took a little while to get home.

Love, Grandpa Evan

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