A couple of people have asked me to post some stories from the original Tales Out of School, a book I compiled a number of years ago. Here’s an excerpt of one story called, "Once a month we played bingo" by Fran Brown of Lindsay, Ontario. Although it is a very sad story, it's one of my favorites. I’ll include a happier one tomorrow.
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My story about teachers is very negative. When I think about my school years, I realize they were not happy times. We lived in a small town in Hastings, Ontario. My family consisted of my mother and my eight brothers and sisters. Father had left. It was the fifties and we were one of the few families, and I think the only family in the school, who was on relief. We spent time at home and at an orphanage.

Through no fault of our own we were poorly dressed, not too clean and improperly fed. Education was not considered important in our lives then, or in the future. We were shy and had no confidence, but we were well-behaved and polite.

The school we attended had only two classrooms. I was in Grade 5 in the room where grades 5 to 8 were taught. My brother and two of my sisters were in this room, too.

Once a month we played bingo at a cost of ten cents. The money went to charity. One day just before the game began, the teacher announced that my brother, sisters and I could not play, as out mother had not paid the $1.35 that was owed for our workbooks. The teacher took our dimes as partial payment and then sent us to the hallway where we sat on the floor and read for the rest of the afternoon. To this day, I can still feel the terrible hurt my siblings and I felt. Words cannot describe what this does to a child.

At this same school the students would be asked to draw pictures of their fathers and tell the class what they did for a living. It was a very small community and everyone knew that our father was in jail. We had nothing to draw and nothing to say.

Today I hear about teachers asking the same questions about fathers or parents or asking what the kids ate for breakfast, or where they’re going for vacations. These are personal questions and they should not be asked in front of a class. Teachers should live in the real world. Not everyone has a father, or three square meals a day, or holidays that are spent on trips away. Teachers should take the time to speak with the child alone.

A teacher’s role in a child’s life is so powerful and what they say and how they treat you can stay with you for a lifetime. Teachers, if you look into the eyes of a young one with rumpled hair, dirty clothes and looking very poor and tired, try to find that spark of something. It is there. Because if anyone needs a loving teacher, a role model, a ray of hope, these children do. These are the children who will keep your memory alive. Let them be good memories.

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What do you remember about your teachers and school days? Want to send me your story? For informaton, read the blurb on the upper left side of this page and then scroll down to older posts and look up my January 19 entry. I'd love to read your story!