Author: Edward Guenther

Uploaded: November 11th, 2011

I was six years old. Nothing had prepared me for the shock of being torn from my safe, warm environment called home. We lived in the country nestled into a protected little valley with a bay front, rolling hills, and mountains in the background. A small creek rustled down the edge of the descending valley and spilled into the bay; on the other side of the valley a homemade swimming pool sat under southern exposure. In between could be found a grass court used for tennis, valley-ball, croquet, and other field games. Then their was the horseshoe pit, barbecue area, pitch and putt golf course, basketball half court, go-cart runs, and numerous other possible activities in our own personal resort. There was rafting and adventure along the bay. Hone was where I wanted to be; however, I was six, almost seven years old, and it was time to start school.

Now school was not a bad place. In fact, it was a middle sized Catholic school with very high standards. But to me it was an unknown monster, devouring kids and ruining the fun in life.

And so it happened that I found myself on a cold September morning standing under the poplar tree, waiting for the scary yellow bus. At the bus depot a very strange man named Ernie roamed about selling newspapers. A big, nasty boy pulled his pants down. I had known it was vicious out there but the shock of it was great. Then the bus driver threatened to kick a boy off the bus. Somehow I found myself abandoned on campus, wondering where the correct door was to enter; if only I could remember it for future use. The day started with a short mass and then I was marched to the first classroom in the east corner of the big read brick building. There I was seated in row 2, chair 3. The teacher was Sister Benedict Arnold, if only I could ever remember it.

Sister Benedict Arnold stood in front of the class and I think her lips moved but I wasn’t hearing very well. Next thing I knew she was heading down the window aisle with a look of vengeance! My eyes went ahead of her to the last seat, where Kevin Desinger sat, his desktop up, twiddling with something in his desk. Suddenly, she was by his desk and a great hand whisked through the air and landed “smack!” on Kevin’s upturned cheek. If there was any life in me by then, it quickly drained out. This whole experience was everything my nightmares told me it would be!

As I sat there stunned I noticed that someone had stuck my hand up in the air. I think I had done it myself. Anyway, Sister called my name, “Eddy”, with a question mark in her tone.

That moment marked the beginning of my “sick” years. On that day and for 2 years I had every sickness, disease, and infirmity known to man, plus a few unknown! Sister Benedict Arnold sent me to the office where my mommy was called to pick me up. The second day at school faired the same: The occupant of Row 2, seat 3 went home before school started.

One of my worst sicknesses was a reoccurring stomach ailment that the doctor couldn’t quite locate. Finally, he put me on some pills in the second grade but I had to be taken off them after playing Tarzan on my desktop during class. Yes, I was in class once in awhile, but my second grade teacher always spotted me right off the bat! “Come here, little Eddy,” she’d say. Now she was sweet and a lovely lady but no fellow likes to be treated like a baby. Then she’d sit me on her lap. So I wouldn’t show up for a couple more weeks hoping she would forget me.

Oftentimes it was a nasty cough I’d wake up with that prevented me from attending school. After the early morning hours it would always go away.

One of the worst conditions I had was some sort of disease in my legs. One leg was totally incapacitated. At first I had homemade crutches but when the condition worsened, somehow I got some real ones. On a weekend my brothers were going down to the bay to play. “I’m coming,” I said.

“You can’t come on crutches,” they replied. But half way down the hill and just out of sight of Mom, I threw the crutches down and leaped around like a gazelle.

My brothers said, “We knew you weren’t hurt!”

Without flinching I responded, “So what! I don’t have to go to school!” I believe I was highly respected that day.

Second grade hooky wasn’t near as good as first, though, cause Davy had rustled off to school and he never played hooky: Only if he had the mumps or chicken pox or, you know, the real thing. Mary and Margy still made good fried cherios and that was some consolation. They would fry then in butter in there little toy cookstove. It really did cook.

Don’t get me wrong. I did some work on phonics papers once in awhile. In fact, my oldest brother Ronny would ask me, “Who is the smartest kid in school?”

Without hesitation I’d say, “I am.”

It was that big ugly yellow school bus that caused the biggest problem. My brothers and sisters would hustle up the long gravel driveway almost as if they wanted to go to school. Once Annie found a poplar leaf so big that we stopped playing the who can find the biggest leaf game because what was the use anymore after that big one.

I’d always lag behind as they went up the road. I could use different excuses like my coat was too big, but that was a real bad excuse cause Mama whipped for that one and she was so mad that I actually went to school that day. That coat fit fine after Mama’s instruction. It was because I grew up a wee trifle that morning.

Anyway, I’d lag behind like I was saying and then I’d slip behind the big alder tree. It was located near the top of the slide. From there I’d breathlessly watch them get on the big yellow evil monster. Sometimes one of my sisters would call out for me and I’d freeze. It was nerve-wracking and was no end of early morning stress for me.

Once the bus groaned down the road I’d come out very slowly. There was no point in seeing Mama right away so I might cut kindling for awhile. Eventually Mama would come out and find me.

“Why, Eddy, I thought you were in school!”

A different time I might found tending my little garden. It was mainly a fuscia plant that would miraculously spring out the groud every spring! I had to be there.

Mama took me to the doctor a lot in those days and I guess they suspected some kind of an emotional problem, whatever that was. I figured the main theory was that I had some kind of stomach disease and he kept giving me pills for that.

It was in the third grade that things began to turn around. The teacher was Sister Josephine. She was part Indian and right off she told me I ran like an Indian, with one foot in front of the other. I figured she’d do. Then there was a drawing for a wind-up bunny; it used a magnet to turn pages on a little book. Would you believe it? I won out of 42 students. Another drawing found me sole owner of a giant blow up bunny (It got popped by Donny, I believe).

I went home with stars pasted on my forehead for good behavior almost every day, except for the time I whacked Tommy Walsh! That upset Sister Josephine so much that I thought she’d hate me forever but next day she acted like nothing happened. Yes sir, I knew that would be a good year. If I was sick in those days you could bank on the truth of it! Sister Josephine was a real Indian, you know, and she was my teacher!