First Grade - Mrs. Barbara (Bradford) Merchant
Second Grade - Mrs. Anne Mathieu
Third Grade - Mrs. Thelma Gray (who became a Principal and was replaced by Mrs. White)
Fourth Grade - Mrs. Roslyn Chiesa
Fifth Grade - Mrs. Jennie M. Sheffield
Sixth Grade - Mr. James E. McGuffin
Principal - Mr. Charles E. Cozean
Riverside Elementary in Shreveport, Louisiana celebrates 50 years of excellence in education beginning with these fine teachers. Thank you for your dedication and patience.
(More about patience later!)
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
First Trip to the Principal's Office
Every school kid gets a trip to the Principal's office.
Don't they?
I got my first trip in the First Grade. Start off on the right foot; I always say that. Thinking back, I don't recall the exact details but I do remember the consequences.
It had been raining for a couple of days. The playground was soggy and where the grass had yet to grow it was a quagmire. We were 24 or so first graders cooped up in a classroom all day, but the school clock and schedule continued to tick along as if nothing unusual was happening.
Well, something unusual was happening. First grader kids were becoming restless, tired of being cooped up all day. Something was going to blow!
Our teacher, as if endowed with a sense of ESP decided to spend afternoon recess in the teacher's lounge where she no doubt smoked a carton of Camels and chugged a quart of Jim Beam, such was the effect our delightful dispositions must have had on her. Perhaps she spent the hour pouring over her teacher's contract looking for a loophole; an escape clause.
Whatever she did is lost in the mists of history but the one thing she did that is not in dispute was to Leave a Class of First Graders Alone for an Hour.
If there is a horror film to be made it is this: First Graders Alone!
I remember how that hour unfolded. At first we worked on our coloring assignment. The classroom was quiet other than the incessant plink plink of the rain outside. Then, an unnamed person wadded up his coloring assignment and threw it. The wadded up ball of paper arched high in the air before bouncing off one of the students in the middle of the room.
That was the spark.
A veritable jamboree of paper throwing ensued after that for a whole five minutes. There were screams and shouts and maniacal laughing galore as wads of paper arced across the room, litering the floor with paper hailstones. Pausing briefly to assess the situation we soon realized that there was not much fun in thowing paper when we could throw everything else!
So, we did. We raided the Activity Cupboard and took out all the balls and outside toys. We stood on desks and jumped around like demons possessed. At some point in the festivities the big, red rubber ball was thrown to me and while standing on the teacher's desk I batted it towards the door.
Just as the Teacher returned from her break.
The ball bounced in front of Teacher, over her head, and into the quagmire outside our classroom. Instantly all the noise stopped and all of the kids returned to their desks except for me who was frozen on Teacher's desk. Hastily, I hopped down and scuttled to my desk, but it was too late. I had already been identified as the Ringleader of the uprising.
Teacher grabbed me and three other boys and marched us down the walkway to the Principal's Office. Although I don't recall all that happened, I do recall that my mother was summoned, as were the mothers of the other three boys and all four of us left school early that day. The remainder of my day was definitely unplesant culminating with the ultimate threat:
Wait Until Your Father Gets Home.
I must have blacked out after that because that's all I remember.
As for the Principal's Office. I don't remember a thing. I must have been terrified out of my wits. Nobody returned from the Principal's Office, at least that was the legend.
Looking back in time through my adult eyes I can only imagine that he was sympathetic but stern given the situation, and Teacher must have been embarrassed for letting her classroom get out of control. It may have been the first time but it wouldn't be the last time that a classroom of rain-bound kids let off a little steam, or that a teacher lost control. Those times were rare but very memorable for both the students and Teacher.
Best wishes, Miss Merchant, wherever you are!
Don't they?
I got my first trip in the First Grade. Start off on the right foot; I always say that. Thinking back, I don't recall the exact details but I do remember the consequences.
It had been raining for a couple of days. The playground was soggy and where the grass had yet to grow it was a quagmire. We were 24 or so first graders cooped up in a classroom all day, but the school clock and schedule continued to tick along as if nothing unusual was happening.
Well, something unusual was happening. First grader kids were becoming restless, tired of being cooped up all day. Something was going to blow!
Our teacher, as if endowed with a sense of ESP decided to spend afternoon recess in the teacher's lounge where she no doubt smoked a carton of Camels and chugged a quart of Jim Beam, such was the effect our delightful dispositions must have had on her. Perhaps she spent the hour pouring over her teacher's contract looking for a loophole; an escape clause.
Whatever she did is lost in the mists of history but the one thing she did that is not in dispute was to Leave a Class of First Graders Alone for an Hour.
If there is a horror film to be made it is this: First Graders Alone!
I remember how that hour unfolded. At first we worked on our coloring assignment. The classroom was quiet other than the incessant plink plink of the rain outside. Then, an unnamed person wadded up his coloring assignment and threw it. The wadded up ball of paper arched high in the air before bouncing off one of the students in the middle of the room.
That was the spark.
A veritable jamboree of paper throwing ensued after that for a whole five minutes. There were screams and shouts and maniacal laughing galore as wads of paper arced across the room, litering the floor with paper hailstones. Pausing briefly to assess the situation we soon realized that there was not much fun in thowing paper when we could throw everything else!
So, we did. We raided the Activity Cupboard and took out all the balls and outside toys. We stood on desks and jumped around like demons possessed. At some point in the festivities the big, red rubber ball was thrown to me and while standing on the teacher's desk I batted it towards the door.
Just as the Teacher returned from her break.
The ball bounced in front of Teacher, over her head, and into the quagmire outside our classroom. Instantly all the noise stopped and all of the kids returned to their desks except for me who was frozen on Teacher's desk. Hastily, I hopped down and scuttled to my desk, but it was too late. I had already been identified as the Ringleader of the uprising.
Teacher grabbed me and three other boys and marched us down the walkway to the Principal's Office. Although I don't recall all that happened, I do recall that my mother was summoned, as were the mothers of the other three boys and all four of us left school early that day. The remainder of my day was definitely unplesant culminating with the ultimate threat:
Wait Until Your Father Gets Home.
I must have blacked out after that because that's all I remember.
As for the Principal's Office. I don't remember a thing. I must have been terrified out of my wits. Nobody returned from the Principal's Office, at least that was the legend.
Looking back in time through my adult eyes I can only imagine that he was sympathetic but stern given the situation, and Teacher must have been embarrassed for letting her classroom get out of control. It may have been the first time but it wouldn't be the last time that a classroom of rain-bound kids let off a little steam, or that a teacher lost control. Those times were rare but very memorable for both the students and Teacher.
Best wishes, Miss Merchant, wherever you are!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Safety Patrol
I looked forward to being old enough to be on the Safety Patrol at Riverside Elementary. I think you had to be in the third grade and you had to be selected.
Safety Patrol was serious work. You wore a white sash and belt which took some training to learn to put on correctly, and a hat. The Safety Patrol was responsible for two things: raising the flag and ensuring that students made it safely from the bike rack and the traffic circle to class.
As a Cub Scout I was especially well qualified for flag duty. It was my favorite because I knew how to fold the flag properly, so I was often in charge. Yes, I was the Barney Fife of the Third Grade.
The bike rack was tough duty, especially in the rain. As dedicated Safety Patrolmen we bravely stood out in the rain to make sure kids parked their bikes correctly and used the sidewalk up to the school building. We also watched for cars turning into the crosswalk.
Next to flag duty, the traffic circle was a great job. You got to open car doors, wave cars through that were taking too long and you were responsible for the smooth flow of cars and students.
But, perhaps, on reflection, the best part of being on the Safety Patrol, better than flags or the bike rack or the traffic circle was going to class late. We worked for five minutes after the bell, then filed into the Principals office to stow our belts and hats, then leisurely strolled into class. It was always cool to come into class a few minutes late and not get in trouble for it.
Yes, we were so special!
Safety Patrol was serious work. You wore a white sash and belt which took some training to learn to put on correctly, and a hat. The Safety Patrol was responsible for two things: raising the flag and ensuring that students made it safely from the bike rack and the traffic circle to class.
As a Cub Scout I was especially well qualified for flag duty. It was my favorite because I knew how to fold the flag properly, so I was often in charge. Yes, I was the Barney Fife of the Third Grade.
The bike rack was tough duty, especially in the rain. As dedicated Safety Patrolmen we bravely stood out in the rain to make sure kids parked their bikes correctly and used the sidewalk up to the school building. We also watched for cars turning into the crosswalk.
Next to flag duty, the traffic circle was a great job. You got to open car doors, wave cars through that were taking too long and you were responsible for the smooth flow of cars and students.
But, perhaps, on reflection, the best part of being on the Safety Patrol, better than flags or the bike rack or the traffic circle was going to class late. We worked for five minutes after the bell, then filed into the Principals office to stow our belts and hats, then leisurely strolled into class. It was always cool to come into class a few minutes late and not get in trouble for it.
Yes, we were so special!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Come Home to Riverside
Come home to Riverside Elementary where you learned to read, learned to play and launched yourself into the World.
Riverside Elementary! Remember the annual school carnival? Remember State Fair? Remember Field Day. Remember the cafeteria.
OK, forget the cafeteria. But, who could forget the "wonderful" meals we ate in that steamy auditorium? Boiled corn, splats of spinich, crispy fried chicken and the ever present dinner roll.
Years ago in a galaxy far, far away, we used to sneak dinner rolls back to the classrooms in our pockets. When the teachers weren't looking we'd squeeze a dinner roll into our pocket, extracting all of the air out of it. Later, in class we would take furtive bites out of our compressed rolls, keeping an eagle eye on the teacher least we be discovered.
Nothing tastes better than an illicit squashed roll eaten in class unknown to the teacher.
Ambrosia.
Riverside Elementary! Remember the annual school carnival? Remember State Fair? Remember Field Day. Remember the cafeteria.
OK, forget the cafeteria. But, who could forget the "wonderful" meals we ate in that steamy auditorium? Boiled corn, splats of spinich, crispy fried chicken and the ever present dinner roll.
Years ago in a galaxy far, far away, we used to sneak dinner rolls back to the classrooms in our pockets. When the teachers weren't looking we'd squeeze a dinner roll into our pocket, extracting all of the air out of it. Later, in class we would take furtive bites out of our compressed rolls, keeping an eagle eye on the teacher least we be discovered.
Nothing tastes better than an illicit squashed roll eaten in class unknown to the teacher.
Ambrosia.
Riverside Elementary School
Hello Everybody!
This blog is dedicated to the 50th Anniversary of the opening of Riverside Elementary School in Shreveport, Louisiana.
Here we will document the many stories that were created in the halls, rooms and playground of this wonderful school.
I am your guide and caretaker, Bill Farrell, who entered First Grade in the year Riverside opened and who was one of the few to attend all six years and be part of the Originals in the graduating class of 1963.
Riverside graduates on the Internet, I command you to find us. Email me your stories and recollections and I'll post them here.
This blog is dedicated to the 50th Anniversary of the opening of Riverside Elementary School in Shreveport, Louisiana.
Here we will document the many stories that were created in the halls, rooms and playground of this wonderful school.
I am your guide and caretaker, Bill Farrell, who entered First Grade in the year Riverside opened and who was one of the few to attend all six years and be part of the Originals in the graduating class of 1963.
Riverside graduates on the Internet, I command you to find us. Email me your stories and recollections and I'll post them here.
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