"Three Years In a Teacherage" is part of a 9 chapter serial fiction piece written by Wanda Molsberry Bates. To see all chapters, please select this link -
Three Years In a Teacherage .
On the lower floor, the two sides of the teacherage were separated by a central entrance hall with the superintendent's apartment in the east half. An open stairway led up to the second floor and a door near the front of the hall opened into the living room of L. P. and the missus. Beyond it was a dining room and to the left of it the kitchen which could also be entered through a door under the stair.
Mrs. Ainsworth, a slender, colorless woman, greeted me courteously enough, but I sensed that she had little enthusiasm for entertaining an applicant whom she had a good chance of never seeing again. Greg, aged two, stayed out of sight in the kitchen until lunch was announced, when suddenly he dashed into the dining room, mounted his booster chair in two leaps, and, snatching a piece of carrot, began stuffing it into his mouth. His mother smiled apologetically, and L. P., grinning with pride, said, "Our little fella's getting somewhat spoiled. Guess he needs a brother or sister to share things with." (And by August when I returned, it was obvious that Greg's needs were going to be met.)
Soon after lunch began I heard sounds of children on the playground and scurrying footsteps in the apartment across the hall. I kept hoping I could meet the teachers, but that was not suggested. I learned later that the noon-hour schedule for the teachers was tight enough that interruptions were not encouraged. I did find out that two teachers would be returning next year and that there would be two new ones.
We met the rest of the School Board in the afternoon-Tom Ernst, Harry Miller, and William Roggendorf. All were cautiously friendly. When I boarded the bus in the late afternoon I hadn't much idea of how successful the interviews had been or whether I really wanted the job. As it turned out, the board was desperate to find a teacher who would work for what they could pay, and in those deep depression days I was desperate to earn some money for my last year of college; so in a few weeks, after passing the special examination, I had signed a contract.
In late summer, with the help of my brother, George, I moved into the teacherage, bringing with me an assortment of kitchen utensils which I had some vague idea might be needed, and (not being psychic) neglecting to bring along the one item which the two returning teachers hoped one of us newcomers would bring - a teakettle.
The teachers' side of the house was entered by a door at the left of the main entrance hall, and we walked directly into the kitchen which was divided into an L-shaped section and a breakfast nook. The nook area truly became the heart of the home, for it was there that, in addition to serving our often hastily prepared meals, we made lesson plans, cut out patterns, wrote letters, played cards, Ping-Pong or Monolopy, and drafted the plans for many a school program.
Beyond the kitchen was our "living" room, a small, square room, its furnishings best described as "nondescript." Along the east wall stood a small settee with a wooden frame and a black leather seat. This objet d'art was known as the "sparkin'" bench, and I admit it did have its uses on occasion, but an uglier, more unattractive piece of furniture, I have yet to find. An equally attractive heavy table, a wooden rocker and two straight chairs, though adding no grace or charm to the room, did make it possible for the four of us to be seated at the same time. The same limp "muckledun" curtains hung at the windows all three years of my stay (and who knows how long before and after?) I suppose, as home economics teacher, I should have done something to beautify the room, but with a cash salary of $47.50 per month one does not buy draperies for temporary lodgings!
Upstairs there were four bedrooms, one in each corner of the house, with a bath sandwiched between the two rooms on the north. The teachers occupied the two bedrooms with west exposures while the Ainsworths had the northeast room, the southeast room being empty except for an occasional overnight guest.
I shared the northwest room with Gwen, and I can still see the yellow birdseye maple dresser we shared, the brass bedstead, and the "cupboard" we made whose cotton, floral print skirt disguised the utilitarian orange crate beneath.
Gwen Gerschner, hired to teach the intermediate grades, (fourth, fifth, and sixth) was the other new teacher that year. She was plump and red-haired-the jolly person needed in any group who can find something to laugh about in almost any situation. Irene Barrett, a small, dark, quiet woman who taught first, second, and third grades, had already taught there for two years. The fourth teacher, Althea Hagen, who shared the teaching of high school subjects with L.P., had also been there for some time. Althea was a slender blonde with delicate features and a pale, clear skin, her appearance a striking contrast to Irene's and my brunette coloring and to Gwen's red hair and warm color.
Althea and Irene, having survived a trial and error period of finding ways to cook, eat, wash dishes, and perform hall and playground duties during the noon hour, set up a work schedule for us, taking upon themselves the jobs of marketers, cooks, and dishwashers for the first week. Gwen and I were to do noon hour duties at the school and take our turn at the weekly cleaning of the teacherage. With the voices of experience, Althea and Irene declared that, in the interests of peace and efficiency, each pair of cooks should do their own dishes, in this way avoiding any grumbling over the profligacy of the other cooks in the use of dishes. I later learned that this was good planning, though at the time I thought it smacked somewhat of Campfire Girls Camp.