Read her winning entry here…
Third grade was not my finest hour. I was a troublemaker, but a clueless one.
Each day in that autumn of third grade, I watched the low, slow reading group take their places at the front of the room, led by tall, imposing Miss Clara with her gray hair tightly pulled into a bun. When her formidable self had settled with the group and was giving them her full attention, I slipped out of my seat, pulled the shoebox from under my desk, and crept to the back of the room.
I flopped on the floor behind a bookshelf, pale, skinny legs bent to one side, full skirt spread over them. First I took out the paper doll I was proudest of, the one that mimicked my brown pin-curled hair, green eyes, and the plaid fall dress my grandmother had made for me. Then I carefully removed the other paper dolls and spread them on the floor.
These were not ordinary paper dolls, but paper dolls I had drawn myself. At first, my Aunt Lola Mae would give me the page of Betsy McCall paper dolls from her McCall’s magazine and I would carefully cut them out and play with them. Then I figured out that I could trace around a doll and change her appearance slightly so that Betsy had a playmate-me! I learned to draw the outline of a dress to give it a different design and color for Betsy or the doll that looked like me. I took them to school to play with when I was finished with my seatwork, usually well ahead of the time allotted.
My inspired designs fascinated the other third grade girls, and I fell prey to the spirit of free enterprise. I began selling my handmade paper dolls and dresses. For the enormous sum of two pennies, Velma Wright had her own Betsy McCall paper doll and outfit to match her own. For the price of her lunch Popsicle, Betty Austin had a doll and four outfits. I got better acquainted with girls I hadn’t known well before. I had a booming business, and each night I diligently worked on new clothes and dolls and deposited into my piggy bank my newfound wealth. I figured I was the wealthiest eight-year-old in Portland, Tennessee.
I liked stern Miss Clara, but her class made me drowsy. I’d read the few books on her shelves, and I’d had it with the simple stories and bland characters. Adding Alice and Jerry to the Dick and Jane books was not enough. I searched for a way to make third grade interesting on my own terms.
When I took my paper dolls to school, suddenly I loved third grade. I finally had a project I could enjoy, one that made me look forward to each day at school. My decision to snip and color had changed everything for me.
But the inevitable moment finally arrived-the moment when I looked up from the floor where I was selling my wares to see a grim Miss Clara towering above me. Never had she seemed so tall or forbidding. But there was no chastisement, verbal or otherwise. She only gave me a piercing, thoughtful look as she collected my box of paper dolls and pennies. Even as I read the disappointment in her look, perhaps she could read the frustration in mine. I returned to my desk to await my punishment-which never came. The day finally ended. I went home without another word from Miss Clara.
I never knew how my parents found out. I was given no note to take home; we had no telephone. But I was sure they knew. Finally I learned their solution: I was going to fourth grade after Christmas!
I hated the idea. I was hysterical, refusing to go. I cried and screamed and begged them to change their minds, to no avail. Finally I was in an academically challenging class. My friends, my life, my direction was changed forever by their decision.
Now I appreciate my insightful parents and their courageous decision. I even appreciate the redoubtable Miss Clara who thwarted the little wheeler-dealer in her 1953 third grade class.
Lanita has secured her spot at Write Your Life--now it is your turn!
Congratulations to Coach Ron Fulenwider for being runner up!
You can read Coach Ron’s submission here…
My favorite childhood memory
I was born June 14, 1941, in Anna, Illinois, in the old Willard Memorial Hospital. The current Anna-Jonesboro basketball gymnasium is now located where the hospital used to sit. This may give you an idea why I chose basketball as my love for the past 60 plus years. When I was five years old, Mom and Dad moved from a little farm off Ashlar Drive in Jonesboro to a 40 acre farm three and a half miles southwest of Jonesboro. The farm had been in the family for many years. This is where my great grandpa, my grandpa, and my dad grew up. It was called Lake Hill.
On this land was a little one-room school called Lake Hill. In earlier years it was known as the Fulenwider School. The school closed in 1943, so I missed going to a one-room school by about five years.
I remember putting a basketball goal in one end of the school so that I could play basketball in the winter months. It worked well when I was pretty small, but in later years I found the ceiling a little low for shooting with any kind of arch. This is where I developed a passion for basketball at an early age. Mom and Dad always made sure I had a ball and a good goal so that I could practice. Kids today would laugh at the kind of ball we had then. The basketball had a bladder inside the leather casing. The ball didn’t always bounce accurately because of the lacing on the outside of the ball. Because of the misshapen basketball, I learned to handle the ball better because I didn’t know which way it would bounce sometimes.
When I wasn’t doing chores, I would play basketball. I would play many make believe games as I transformed that old one-room school into an NBA court. My heroes were Dolph Schayes, Bob Pettit, and Bill Russell, all top 50 players in the history of the NBA. I hoped that I would be a good player someday. I imagined I was playing against Bob Pettit and Bill Russell all the time. I don’t know that I ever thought I would play in the NBA. I was so small in the seventh grade (four feet eleven inches), and by the time I reached high school I was only five feet one inch tall.
I played two years of basketball at Jonesboro Grade School. Believe it or not I played forward on the team. I was pretty quick, and I could get around the taller players and score. We played in tiny rural schools that had the double time lines (center lines). The free throw lanes were six foot lanes at that time. Today they are twelve feet.
I remember game day. We got to wear our ugly cotton warm-up jackets. They were made of cotton and not attractive like today’s warm-ups. We couldn’t wait to get to the Twins Cafe on the square to display our warm-ups. We did want to show off a little for the girls.
My parents permitted me to play basketball, but I would have to find a way home some days. The custodian lived about a mile and a half from me and took me home some days. The other times I would thumb home from Jonesboro Square. I lived three and a half miles from school, which isn’t that far by car, but it was too far to walk in the darkness. Between Mom and the custodian I would have a ride 3 days a week. I was very successful in thumbing home because of neighbors and people traveling south on route 127. Practice usually lasted until 5:00 pm and it was already dark. I remember seeing scary things at times going home. Most rides just got me to within a mile of the house. Today one wouldn’t think of letting their child thumb home.
My love for basketball continued to grow. I played high school ball but didn’t make the team until my senior year. I was so small I didn’t make the team my freshman year. I kept practicing in physical education and at home on my old school NBA court. My opportunity to play didn’t come until my senior year because I had to work on the farm after school. Dad needed my help to make ends meet. Life was tough at that time—making it financially.
My senior year I tried out and made the team. I was now six feet one inch tall. My coach knew that I had worked hard in physical education and really wanted to play my last year of school. I had played a lot of FFA ball, which helped me. I was able to contribute and play a reasonable amount of time. I was sixth man behind Tony Ferrell, an all-conference player and conference record holder.
My chance came in the 1959 regional championship game against Mounds Douglas (now Meridian). Tony had gotten in foul trouble and I came in for him. I made six out six free throws while he was on the bench. It turned out that those six free throws helped seal the victory for the regional championship. We won 62-59 over a fine Mounds team. I try to tell my kids today you have to work hard to achieve your goals, whatever they are.
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