I went to "the most modern county school in Sangamon County! It was a two room school with a basement. It was built on a sand hill. There were four grades in each room, one teacher taught all four. The first teacher I had was a married woman with no children, Mrs. Stella Combs, whose husband was Guy. She made each child feel that he was her "pet."

We had a sand box on legs with small people, other "things." It was for the first graders, mostly. There was no kindergarten. We had black boards on one side of the room (wall) and the other side was windows.

We were called to class with a bell that was held and we all wanted to ring the bell. But we had to take turns with the "big" room. Ours was the "little" room.

When we were very very good we could go into the big room for singing. We had to double up and sit with the big kids. We sang things like "Old Black Joe" and Suzy Little Suzy, now what is the news?" And "Swannee River," of course!

At recess we played in the sand under huge nut trees, and ate the nuts by cracking them between between two brick bats. Including the dirt and sand.

I went all eight grades from first in 1927 through eighth in 1935. We had spelling bees on Friday afternoons and crafts, like making pin cushions to the older girls cutting, fitting, and sewing their own bras. Really! The teacher noticed that some young girls were badly in need! She took them into the cloak room and there was no embarrassment with the boys. She kept them working on hammers and nails. It was during the big "depression." There were needs of all kinds met.

Sorry! this is getting too long, so if anyone wants more there will have to be a continued chapter. Thanks for listening. By the way the school building still exists, it is used for something like Mountainland, or? Muriel, an old lady who can remember important things!

Chapter 2 - Sand Hill - Continued

When I first went to school, we had no inside toilets. We all wore t. paper in our shoes and had to go out the back, even when it was cold! Finally, the school board decided we needed to modernize. So on one side of the basement was the girls' room and on the other side was the boys' room.

In winter we played in the basement rooms (outside the bathrooms). We played: "here we come." other side: " Where from?" New York. "What's your trade?" And we had to "get to work and show us something if you're not afraid." So we would act out a charade and the other lineup on the other side would guess what we were doing! Then there was a game called Lemonade. Can't remember that one.

Our floors in the school room were wood, and were treated with an oil. There would be curly chips that would be swept up to lighten the oil effect. It had a very pungent odor. I can remember that odor very well! It was not bad. In fact, it was a clean smell. We used to have to take a sack lunch from home, but some mothers got the idea of buying an electric plate to heat up a large pan of water, and those who wanted hot lunch would bring a pint bottle of soup or some other main dish to warm up in the pan of hot water! voila! Hot lunches! In another chapter I'll tell about Mrs. Deal teaching a physiology lesson on a butchered pig from a nearby farmer! Ta dee dum dum! Tune in for the next chapter! If you want, that is! Little Old Lady Muriel

Chapter 3 - School Lessons

Mrs. Maurine Deal, our fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth grade teacher, was a tall angular woman with light auburn hair, lots of smiles, and very creative ideas. The younger girls learned to darn stockings and do patchwork while she was working with the older girls with their personal needs. She made plans with one of the fathers of a student to have parts of a butchered pig brought to school one day. They were laid out on her desk, and she explained and demonstrated a physiology lesson. With astonishment, we children stood around the desk and watched as she put the washed end of the trachea in her mouth, and blow on it. We were able to see the lungs expand and collapse. It sent shivers to our very bones, but it was a lesson we would never forget.

Remember I told you it was in the depression? The school board or maybe it was a state legislated thing, passed a law that married women could not hold a teaching job if their husbands were working. So that wonderful teacher was "fired," and a young inexperienced one took her place the next year. The year she taught was 1931-32, Sangamon County, Illinois. We students will never forget her and her love. If I'm allowed to tell you more, it's about Pony the little Indian boy whose family moved into the empty acreage next to the school, tent and all. Thanks, M.B.

Our lessons at this little country school were quite different than the ones listed for the city schools. The highlight of the school year was the first spring picnic. We came to know the flowers that loved the shady woodland. We gathered wild flower bouquets. Our imaginations ran wild with Dutchman’s Breeches, Jack-in-the-pulpit, and Bleeding Heart. We were taught to recognize the leaf of poison ivy, and birds: oriole, bluebird, blue jay, cardinal, wild canary, and Bob-white. The call of a bird, or the glimpse of an animal were a part of our "elementary" education in those days.

It was an adventure, coming home through the back lane. That was generally for-bidden because it was a secluded little pathway lined with trees, uncurling ferns, and wildlife, too far away from the safety of a homestead. We trembled a little at the thought of terrors that lurked there, but we often fairly danced our way home down the lane, enjoying the delicious ecstasy of excitement it gave us, or impishly loitering to experience a countryside’s teaching moments of a honey bee gathering nectar, or a caterpillar chrysalis, that would hatch a butterfly.

There were fewer over-stocked toy shelves in the home, and less talk of social adjustment. Social adjustments were generally made with a few well-placed pats on the seat of the pants by loving parents, and occasionally by a loving teacher. Orthography was a subject we studied when we were in seventh and maybe eighth grades. It was the study of words and their parts, and we became good spellers. That goes for grammar, too! Remember diagraming sentences? Many teachers today can’t teach good grammar, because they haven’t learned it themselves! Excuse me, please, for those who did! Thanks for hearing me out on these things! It’s my age.

Chapter 4 - Poem

To those who read the first chapter about the games we played in the winter down in the basement playroom, some of the others were called Go in and Out the Window, London Bridge, Tisket-a-tasket, and here is a poem I wrote about those days:

SAND CASTLES IN ACORN TOWN

Sand hills hover in my mind with children digging castles for acorn people, sand-bred, who drank sand soup for lunch and rode acorn Model T's. All come to a shattering halt with school bell's din.

Hickory nuts falling from trees fill recess times with brick bats, smashed fingers and wails of laughter. Childhood chants ring from the ceiliing, as small hearts, bursting with the redbuds, race for freedom and a school picnic in the woods.

Somehow, the first warm April day tastes of cold spring water, sounds of a strange bird singing, looks like a baton-tailed squirrel daring across the path of thirty-three pair of small laughing legs, followed by a clutch of sweater and sober warning.

Sack lunches bump to a lump along the wooded path, an odor of heavy, damp, leaf-mold mingling with wild bluebell smells. I think I hear the woods still singing, and my childhood chants ring forever in my mind.

Chapter 5 - The Depression & Pony Eagle

Getting tired of this stuff? Just let me know. But this is America, and America has gone through some tough times. The Great Depression is just one of them.

One day a family of Indians moved onto the empty field next to the school. They unloaded a buckboard wagon, set up a tepee, and made camp. With the natural curiosity of children, most of the students climbed on the plank fence and watched every move of the native Americans.

I'm sure it was the first glimpse any of us had of a native American. Because of the Depression, many tribal families had started to move across the nation looking for relief from the drought and starvation of their lands, not knowing hard times and serious poverty were occurring outside the reservation; that times were difficult for all people. After a few days, Mrs. Deal approached the mother of the strange little family of the tepee inviting the two school-age children to come to class as long as the family would be in the area.

Pony Eagle, a handsome ten-year old boy with shiny black hair and eyes, was shy, but very capable of doing the work the rest of the fifth grade were doing, in spite of the transient life of his family. (Sorry, this could be too long, so I'll have to continue it until the next time.) Muriel

Well, it seems I have a captive audience. I thank you for the encouragement. It's fun to recount these Sand Hill pieces.

Pony Eagle was encouraged to share the culture of his people with the inquisitive students during question and answer periods. We came to understand that the American Indian has traditions which are good; that family relationships are considered sacred. We learned that an Indian believes that we are here to assist that Great Spirit to look after and take care of his creations, no matter what they may be, animal or plant.

Pony's father was a migrant worker who moved around looking for work, just as other parents had to do. He moved on after a few months, and we missed our new friend with the bright eyes and alert mind. We missed learning more of his heritage.

Chapter 6 - Sandhill Still Stands

Good news! Thanks to Margie Nichols:

Sand Hill is now a Montessori School. My grandchildren attended this wonderful school for 2 years previous to their public school kindergarten. Montessori schools are earth science schools and the one at Sand Hill has beautiful wild flower gardens. The school has been kept up very well. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful story. Margie

And I, Muriel, was in Springfield, Illinois this spring, where I was born and grew up I stopped and took a picture of my Sand Hill. When I can, I'll send the picture so you can see where these wonderful lessons taught by these wonderful teachers actually sits. Way back off the highway that used to be the famous Highway 36. And there are more stories to come! Thanks for listening! Muriel

Chapter 7 -Location of School

Dear Readers: Sand Hill School was in Sangamon County, Illinois, north of Springfield about seven miles on the road that went to Williamsville and maybe four miles from the Illinois State Fair grounds. We lived in a little sub-division called Sangamo Heights about a mile and a quarter from the school out on the highway that took us to Chicago.

In back of the school was a deep woods where the Sangamon River ran, the river and woods that Abraham Lincoln was so fond of. Allthough Lincoln lived in the area closer to Petersburg, and it was then called Menard County which had been a part of Illinois until 1839. My 2nd great grandfather and Abraham's history runs parallel from Virginia to Kentucky, through Indiana to central Illinois. Except for the times the Alkires spent in Ohio.

John N. Alkire and his brothers and families came into Illinois 1824-25. Lincoln came into Sangamon County in the spring of 1831 in a canoe on the raging Sangamon River from the neighboring county of Macon Traveling by land was impracticable due to the flooded lands from the winter of the Deep Snow that was just thawing.

Springfield people have a deep respect and affection for Lincoln and feel that he is one of their own. When I was in the fourth grade at Sand Hill, all the children were taken to the Capitol Building for a special learning excursion. Each child was able to take his turn sitting in Abraham Lincoln's chair. We almost felt it was holy. It was a large chair and if I remember right, the covering was a deep red velvet. My grandparents lived across the street from the Ninian Edwards home, (sister and brother-in-law to Mary Todd Lincoln) where we cousins played in and out and under the tall trees that towered over the huge grassy lawn. The street in front was paved with bricks, as many of the streets still are.

Much later I lived just six blocks from the only home Abe ever owned, and to it he brought his wife and baby son, Robert Todd, after living in boarding houses the first two years of married life. When I walked up north toward the home on the corner of Eighth and Jackson, I would remember my favorite Lincoln story.

I could picture Mary's Abe returning after a trip away from Springfield, and seeing his home with a new second story which Mary had built on without his knowledge. He hardly recognized the place and in his amusing fashion asked a neighbor if this were not the neighborhood of the Lincolns, or had he mistakenly taken the wrong street? Wasn't he something else?!!!! My piece of Lincoln history, Muriel

I inadvertently said on July 19, "Although Lincoln lived in the area closer to Petersburg, and it was then called Menard County which had been a part of Illinois until 1839." I should have said it was a part of Sangamon County until 1839. I also found that Sand Hill School was built in 1916.

I am researching Alkire, my mother's line, and William Clinton Lee, born 1829 in Bolivar, TN who was a traveling salesman in Greenview, Menard County in 1870 but he disappeared after that, and we don't know if he died someplace, or what happened to him. He sold agricultural implements, stoves, etc.out of St. Louis. He is my great grandfather. Son of a William Lee, Baptist preacher. Muriel Bywater

Chapter 8 - First Love 1927 Sand Hill.

The sand box for first grade was not a big thrill. But in the front of the roomlittle red chairs circled around a large reading chart with pictures of Rover, Baby, and Ball. It was there I first fell in love. It wasn’t just fancy or infatuation. It wasn’t a love that started with a simple feeling of respect or infatuation. It was a smash-bang thing, yet, it was the kind of love that grew with the years. Each birthday only added more admiration and yearning: a greater passion.

There was I at the age of six, sitting on a little red chair with the teacher at my side when wham! It happened. "I see Rover," I heard myself saying. I looked up at the class to see if they were as impressed as I was with my ability to look at the printed page and interpret correctly. I was gratified to see that I was being highly regarded in the eyes of my classmates. This affair with the English language began, and since that day I have dearly loved words. I confess, we have had differences of opinion. Quarreled pointedly. Yet, I have been sent from the depths of depression to elevated ecstasy by my love. I have learned, explored, perceived, responded, and experienced through it. And it began at a little country school outside of Springfield, Illinois: Sand Hill where the red buds bloomed in the back woods along the Sangamon River in the Spring. Where Abraham Lincoln lived "at home." And Lincoln belonged to us.

Chapter 9 - Romance? At Sand Hill School

It was an exciting event to pass from the Fourth grade into the Fifth. We were then in the "Big Room." We were a "big kid."

That was the year Isabel and I first kissed a boy. One day we chased Georgie Means till he finally dropped from exhaustion, and we kissed him on the head and ran quickly away delighted with our achievement.

The big emphasis for Isabel and me (we were best "pals") that year, was romance. We talked, thought, ate, and dreamed romance, and there was more of that in the Big Room. We were giddy and giggly watching he eighth grade boys and girls trap a couple who liked each other in the cloak room, and they weren’t allowed to come out until they had kissed. When this happened, we were ecstatic. Of course these extra-curricular activities took place when the teachers were still taking their noon-hour break in the principal’s office behind a closed door. Ahhh! Romance!!!

Chapter 10 - Childhood Traumas at Sand Hill

One day I was so dejected and disappointed, I felt life for this ten-year-oldwasn’t worth living. I had been invited to Patricia’s birthday party. My first. But Patricia was my friend who lived in town, and I had been told there was no way I could get there after school. There was only one car to a family in those days, if they were lucky! My heart was broken, and teacher sensed it. After I confessed my troubles, presto! After school she took me home and I would ride into town with her, attend the party, have dinner, stay overnight at her home, and ride to school with her in the morning. My Auntie was a little miffed. She really didn’t have the dress ready she thought I should wear to a party! But we managed. Mrs. Deal seemed to understand the traumas known by each child, and set about meeting his needs. I’m almost out of memories of Sand Hill, but I’m saving Christmas to the last! Thanks for your kindness, Muriel

Chapter 11 - Christmas at Sandhill - 1927 to 1935

At Christmas time, we made tree decorations with red and green construction paper. Also we would string popcorn and loop it over the trees in charming wide loops, going all around the tree. The trees were real fir pine trees. No artificial ones in those days. I'm talking about the years I attended school, from September 1927 through eighth grade, 1935. I told about the time I was still in the "little room" standing by the fire escape door and Santa peeked in the door! I rushed to the door and opened it, much to the horror of Mrs. Combs. She had tried to warn me not to open it. But I did! I looked out to find Santa running down the fire escape stairs in long black stockings, short pants, and a red stocking hat pulled down over his ears. I was reminded of the boy next door who was in the "big room." I wondered why Santa had forgotten his red suit, and where was the big white beard? Later, I decided it had actually been Cecil Daniels, my best friend's big brother, who was pretending to be Santa. We were told Santa was peeking in the windows when we weren't watching to see who was being "good," and who was being "bad." After that experience, I began to suspect Santa and his activities. An eight year old with great expectations during the Great Depression days. The biggest Christmas excitement began when we all put our names in a box, and took turns drawing out a name for whom we would buy a gift and put under the Christmas tree. The gifts were passed around at the end of the Christmas program. When we were taken to town to do our Christmas shopping, we would walk up and down the store aisle, for hours, delighting in choosing just the right gift. We were supposed to keep the name a secret. But we all would trade names until we got the name of our best friend, or the boy we liked especially well. We were warned we mustn't buy anything expensive. Ten cents was suggested. I always hoped I'd get one of the ten cent rings from the dime store. I was never that lucky to be given a beautiful little ring, but I usually got a tell-tale flat box that was just the size of a square-folded handkerchief. When my name was called out for the flat, square box I was the most disappointed little girl in the world. I never did get the dime store ring that I had hoped for all my life. But every year, Christmas was the most exciting time of the year, and we all had new hopes.

Copyrighted © and Donated by Muriel Bywater