Fictional: A typical day in the traditional school system
Peter slowly opened his eyes. The room was dark. But what had he heard? Yes, it was a new calf! It didn't take the eleven-year-old long to jump out of bed, put on his shirt and coveralls and race towards the barn. It was still almost too dark to see, but Peter thought this was surely the prettiest calf yet. He heard his mom call from the barn, where she was milking, "Peter! Are you out there? Come get the milk, or you'll be late for school!"
Peter went to retrieve two small pails to feed the young calves. He loved this chore. His friends sometimes teased him about it being women's work, but there was nothing like the feel of a calf's curly head or the roughness of its tongue on his fingers.
After a breakfast of bread and strawberry jam, the children were ready to walk to the village school. Peter loved the feel of dust between his toes as he walked down the long lane. In the early morning air, he already heard the echo of children’s voices coming from the one-room schoolhouse. Peter squared his shoulders and quickened his pace. Would the teacher praise his penmanship work today? Those gothic letters were hard to form, but yesterday he had put forth his very best effort. Anita, who always knew her lessons better than he and sat at the far end of the bench, had smiled when she sneaked a glance at his page.
As the sun climbed over the horizon at 7:30, Peter lustily joined in the singing. All forty students sat straight on wooden benches with their hands folded on the table in front of them. After two songs out of the Altes Gesangbuch, everyone rose and bowed their heads to recite the morning prayer. Peter was careful not to peek. Teacher might notice, and Peter did not wish to be shamed in front of the class.
This year, Peter was old enough to read the Testament. He glanced at the first graders, who were sounding out new words in the Fibel. Then he smoothed the pages of his Testament. He wished he understood more of what he read. But mother had said German was God’s language. Maybe that was why everyone was always so serious when reading out of the black book. Now his class was beginning to read orally. Peter sat up straighter. He winced as he listened to Helena read. The teacher kept calling out “Nein!”, forcing her to reread a mispronounced word. Helena’s voice quivered as she stumbled over another long word, but she bravely kept her momentum. Next, Peter stood and read his verses in a loud, even voice. When the teacher called out “Weiter!” he sat back down.
Peter went to retrieve two small pails to feed the young calves. He loved this chore. His friends sometimes teased him about it being women's work, but there was nothing like the feel of a calf's curly head or the roughness of its tongue on his fingers.
After a breakfast of bread and strawberry jam, the children were ready to walk to the village school. Peter loved the feel of dust between his toes as he walked down the long lane. In the early morning air, he already heard the echo of children’s voices coming from the one-room schoolhouse. Peter squared his shoulders and quickened his pace. Would the teacher praise his penmanship work today? Those gothic letters were hard to form, but yesterday he had put forth his very best effort. Anita, who always knew her lessons better than he and sat at the far end of the bench, had smiled when she sneaked a glance at his page.
As the sun climbed over the horizon at 7:30, Peter lustily joined in the singing. All forty students sat straight on wooden benches with their hands folded on the table in front of them. After two songs out of the Altes Gesangbuch, everyone rose and bowed their heads to recite the morning prayer. Peter was careful not to peek. Teacher might notice, and Peter did not wish to be shamed in front of the class.
This year, Peter was old enough to read the Testament. He glanced at the first graders, who were sounding out new words in the Fibel. Then he smoothed the pages of his Testament. He wished he understood more of what he read. But mother had said German was God’s language. Maybe that was why everyone was always so serious when reading out of the black book. Now his class was beginning to read orally. Peter sat up straighter. He winced as he listened to Helena read. The teacher kept calling out “Nein!”, forcing her to reread a mispronounced word. Helena’s voice quivered as she stumbled over another long word, but she bravely kept her momentum. Next, Peter stood and read his verses in a loud, even voice. When the teacher called out “Weiter!” he sat back down.
At recess it did not take the boys long to organize a game of tag. Peter was a fast runner and could outrun most of the big, 13-year-old boys. But sometimes he let himself be caught by a 7-year-old. Peter didn’t understand how the girls could enjoy playing silly games like Ring Around the Rosie.
Math class consisted of a recitation of the addition and subtraction tables and copying problems on their slates. Peter frowned. After reciting half of the addition table, the numbers had begun to swim in his head. He hoped the teacher would not check on his work today. It was too embarrassing. Again Peter wished he were as good as Anita. He had even seen the teacher smile at her math work once. And small wonder. Anita printed her numbers very precisely and never missed a problem.
Finally the teacher rang the 11:00 bell for lunch. After the lunch prayer, most of the students ran home for lunch. Peter’s parents had gone to visit grandmother, so today Peter and his siblings would eat at school. Peter was excited about that. He knew his mom had packed Coke in their lunch and a bag of chips. But even eating ordinary butcher sausage and salted crackers was fun when they came out of a pail. And he could join the game of tag sooner with the boys who stayed at school.
When Peter and his siblings came home at 3:00, his parents were just arriving. Pa called, “Boys, change quickly. We need to pick stones off the field out back yet.” They obeyed. Mom gave each of them a cookie before they ran out the door. Peter noticed that the girls were tying their hats on, which meant that they were probably going to work out in the yard, raking the dry grass into piles to burn.
As he rode the trailer behind his dad’s old tractor, Peter scanned the sky. No sign of clouds. He could hardly wait for summer to come – and with it the much-waited-for rains. The sun was warm, but Peter enjoyed working with his father and brothers. Just two more years of school and he'd be able to do this every day. He smiled at the thought, then sobered as he thought of the lively games of tag.
Math class consisted of a recitation of the addition and subtraction tables and copying problems on their slates. Peter frowned. After reciting half of the addition table, the numbers had begun to swim in his head. He hoped the teacher would not check on his work today. It was too embarrassing. Again Peter wished he were as good as Anita. He had even seen the teacher smile at her math work once. And small wonder. Anita printed her numbers very precisely and never missed a problem.
Finally the teacher rang the 11:00 bell for lunch. After the lunch prayer, most of the students ran home for lunch. Peter’s parents had gone to visit grandmother, so today Peter and his siblings would eat at school. Peter was excited about that. He knew his mom had packed Coke in their lunch and a bag of chips. But even eating ordinary butcher sausage and salted crackers was fun when they came out of a pail. And he could join the game of tag sooner with the boys who stayed at school.
When Peter and his siblings came home at 3:00, his parents were just arriving. Pa called, “Boys, change quickly. We need to pick stones off the field out back yet.” They obeyed. Mom gave each of them a cookie before they ran out the door. Peter noticed that the girls were tying their hats on, which meant that they were probably going to work out in the yard, raking the dry grass into piles to burn.
As he rode the trailer behind his dad’s old tractor, Peter scanned the sky. No sign of clouds. He could hardly wait for summer to come – and with it the much-waited-for rains. The sun was warm, but Peter enjoyed working with his father and brothers. Just two more years of school and he'd be able to do this every day. He smiled at the thought, then sobered as he thought of the lively games of tag.
**Written in full by Christa Dueck. Used with Permission.**