To leave this environment [Camp Creek] when only eleven years old was a heart breaking experience. I had not been aware that such a move was contemplated until one day my sister, Ruth said, “How would you like to move to Brunot?” I was so startled by the question that I had no answer. Leave the farm and move to a town! Why? The facts began to come out and it seemed that everyone was in the know and I had been left out or I had just been too busy to listen.
My father’s eyes were now well and he could go back to his old trade -blacksmithing. A home was for sale at Brunot and a shop was waiting for him. Eli was married and could take over the farm. It all made sense and of course I wasn’t asked to vote any way.
It was a beautiful fall day when six wagons with sideboards on the wagon beds, began to gather at our front gate. All of the furniture, bedding, clothes, boxes of canned fruit, crates of chickens, two pigs and many other items were loaded into the wagons. All the family rode either horse back or in the wagons except Millard, Charlie and I – we walked and either led or drove the two cows, It was only about seven miles through the hills and across the creeks to Brunot but the roads were rough and it took the greater part of the day.
The trip was uneventful insofar as the moving went, however one tragedy did occur. Our little shepherd dog treed a squirrel some distance from the road we heard him barking but we had to go on and he never caught up with us. Brother Charlie went back the next day looking for him but we never saw him again. When a boy loses his dog he considers it to be a tragedy.
Brunot was a big place. There were two stores, two churches’, a post office, a doctor’s office and, a blacksmith shop. Many log wagons hauled railroad ties to Des Arc to be loaded onto flat cars.
The blacksmith business was very goo’ since wagons had to be repaired and horses and mules had to be shod. I had entered into an entirely new way of life, seeing so many people and witnessing so much activity was a great contrast to the quiet solitude of the farm.
Perhaps the biggest change of all was the school. There were so many pupils, maybe forty or more, and they had grades or classes. I carried my only credential with me, The Progressive Fifth Reader and after hearing me read, Mr. Harrison, the teacher said I could go in the “B” class. My older brothers were put in the “A'” class.
The teacher was very kind and understanding and all the students seemed to welcome us. I remember them all but will only mention family names: the Midkiffs, the lovelaces, the Russells, the Whites, the Duncans, the Hays, the Jacksons, the Hunters the Kinkles, the Barkers, the Jones’, the Parkers and the Kings. Perhaps there were others and they were all great young people.
Walter and Frank Russell became my buddies through high school and into college. During my second year at Brunot the teacher was Mr. Jess Brewington. He was an experienced teacher and kept everyone busy but I remember him best for his beautiful handwriting. He had a time set aside every day to teach us handwriting. He said the writing was called “Spencerian.” (this style of writing was named for Platt Rogers Spencer, an American teacher 1800·1864). At one time handwriting was considered an important skill – even an art. The old records in county court houses give evidence of how important it was.
The goal of the pupils in the elementary school was to complete the Eighth Grade. The County Superintendnet furnished the questions the teacher gave them to the “A” class and sent the papers to the County Superintendent for grading. If the student passed he was eligible for high school. While this seemed to me to be a long way off, I began to hope for that day.
My next teacher was my cousin, Roy Thornburgh. He introduced me to the world of books and while we had no school library he managed to keep me supplied. Also my father was an avid reader and read aloud to the family many evenings by lamplight. Parents who read aloud to their children when they are small do them a great favor. I have found in recent years that there are many college students who have never been exposed to many of out great American authors.
My next teacher was a native of Brunot, Mr. Charles Midkiff. He was a great dramatist and wanted to give school plays. When he read the Courtship of Miles Standish to us he would act out each character as he read. The pupils adored him. Under his supervision, I took the county examinations and to my surprise, passed both the Seventh and Eighth grade subjects and was given the Eighth Grade Diploma. I was now eligible for high school.
But high school was out of the question. How would I get to Greenville or Piedmont? How about tuition and board? Also my parents thought I was too young to leave home. So believe it or not, for the next two years I attended the Brunot school. However, it wasn’t quite as bad as it sounds. I really didn’t repeat any thing. Again a new teacher came to Brunot, a young lady by the name of Miss Bonnie Boston. She brought new ideas, new material and introduced us to Algebra, Ancient History and whatever we wanted to study it was up to us. Also I began to assist in the primary room and when the teacher was absent I became the teacher.
This continued on into the second year after my so-called graduation and with two new teachers, I found myself spending more time teaching the primary room than I spent in classes. I was not paid for this service – I can’t remember even being thanked for it but for some reason I enjoyed trying to teach the young children.
School was out in January, as usual, and there was not much to do but help in the blacksmith shop. My favorite work was in the paint shop putting on the black orange and green stripes that decorated the new wagons. Also my father made most of the caskets (we called them coffins) that were needed in the Brunot vicinity. I assisted’ my sister, Ruth, in padding lining and finishing the casket and we sometimes worked most of the night by lamplight. The deceased was usually buried one day after death, and it was not unusual for my father to work all night and then, ride several miles the next day to preach the funeral.
In March, the County Superintendent, Mr. C.E. Burton, held the teachers examination at Greenville. I spent two full days writing answers to printed questions on History, English Grammar, Arithmetic, Geography, Orthography and Pedagogy. If you made less than 75% on any subject you failed and to get the teachers certificate an average of 80% had to be achieved. I still treasure my first certificate it was called a THIRD GRADE COUNTY Certificate and was good only in Wayne County. However, another county superintendent would endorse the Certificate (fee $1.50) and let you teach in that county.
Shortly after receiving my Certificate, I got a call from the Peach Tree Fork school board saying they wanted to have a two month spring term- would I Teach it for $30 per month and do my own Janitor work? Since my sister Estella, who lived in the community agreed to board me for $8 per month, I accepted their offer.
On the first day of school the children came from every where, big, little and in between with two or three older than I. The school day was form 8a.m. to 4p.m. With an hour for lunch and a morning and afternoon recess of 15 minutes each. But the children began arriving at 7 a.m. and often stayed until after 5 p.m. or until I made them start for home. There were practically no discipline problems and corporal punishment was seldom used even though the school board Admonished me that “lickin and Larnin” went hand in hand.
Later, I taught two full Terms at Peach Tree School and the only time corporal punishment was administered was to a few boys who couldn’t resist fighting among themselves. Even my two nephews, Bert and Willis Henson called me Mr. Brooks and were good students. The community of Peach Tree is to be commended for their preservation of the school house. I hope that during this year it will be given the honor it deserves over fifty years of community service.
A community’s growth is frequently measured by its economic success and while that is certainly important educational opportunities should not be forgotten. Wayne County has never forgotten its youth. In the early nineteen hundreds two high schools were being established – one at Piedmont and one at Greenville. Since my brother Millard had finished high school at Greenville and was employed there to teach the eighth grade, he made it possible for me to enter the school there.
Professor Victor Sears with the able assistance of Miss Bessie Leeper and Mr. William Owens constituted the entire faculty of the Greenville High School. This was an approved four year high school, offering the 16 units for graduation, sufficient for college entrance. This was an intensive work, study and recite program with written examination frequently.
Our only “Frill” was basketball but Victor Sears loved music and we had a singing assembly every morning when school opened. After this one year at Greenville, I taught a six or seven month term, beginning in July and then in September enrolled in high school as an “extension student.” I visited the high school teachers on Saturdays at regular intervals and kept up with the subject material. These teachers did not get paid for this special duty they performed and it never occurred to me that they expected to be paid.
I had transferred to the Williamsville High School because Victor Sears was now the superintendent there. His able assistants were Earl Davidson and Roy Thornburgh. They were dedicated men. In terms of present day standards, none of my teachers were highly trained teachers and none were college graduates but they possessed a quality’ essential to good teaching- they loved their students and they loved their work. Their pupils respected and admired them. Wayne County had great teachers in my time and C.E. Burton and Victor Sears led the way in sharpening the growing edges of educational development.
World War I interrupted our school program. Roy Thornburgh left school to join the army and help make the world safe for democracy. The two remaining teachers saw the school term through and the Senior Class had a beautiful graduation. The college at Cape Girardeau opened a Student Army Training Program (SATC) which I joined. After the war was over I was called to the Cherry Grove School to teach a six month term. The school had lost its teacher through resignation. The following year I joined Professor Sears at the Williamsville High School as Principal. The following year I served as the Superintendent at Williamsville High School with Alta Leeper and Hugh Rowland as my assistants.
While teaching gave me a great deal of satisfaction, I began to examine its economic rewards. Already, I had reached the top salary and it didn’t seem to be adequate. Other men had used teaching as a stepping stone to an other profession so I began to think of becoming a lawyer. I admired the great lawyers of Wayne County.
I probably would have remained in Wayne County resident for life had I not met a young college student at Cape Girardeau whose home was in Webster Groves. She told me of the great opportunities to study law in St. Louis –two great schools–Washington University and St. Louis University. Also I might teach and go to Law school at the same time.
Her advice sounded very good and I went to St. Louis. University City offered me a job as a high school teacher and I enrolled in St.Louis University’s Night Law School. Needless to say, perhaps, but ‘the young lady; Miss Hazel Houghton, became my wife.
After finishing law school I found teaching so attractive I never left it. While rearing four sons, Hazel taught at Normandy elementary schools and spent twenty years at the Brentwood High School.
Three of our sons are engaged in school work, administration and teaching in St.Louis County. The other son, a retired army Lt. Colonel has completed a master’s degree in psychology and is employed by the Air Force at Little Rock, Ark. All four of our daughters-in-law are now teachers. The problems of the world can only be solved by educated and enlightened minds and the teachers of today hold the future of the world in their hands. Wayne County has grown up and its educational program furnishes evidence of that growth. We all love Wayne County and we meet once each summer at Brunot at the old homestead to recharge our spiritual and emotional batteries.
