Aunt Alice

  1948

     Alice McCurdy was my second cousin twice removed.  She was my grandmother Sylba's relative and Alice with her husband Earl lived in the old Caldwell farmhouse on Saltsburg Road, Penn Township Verona Pennsylvania. Now Penn Hills

My great grandmother Caldwell lived here. I did to. Not at the same time. 

    .

We lived on the second floor.  My Father Dale Acklin built the stairs.

I have many memories of Aunt Alice.  

My Manifesto!

I wrote this in 1964, for an Senior English assignment.  I was 17 years old and this was one year after I was chased on North Fork Mountain, West Virginia by Walter Disce.  I felt that I had received an answer to prayer and that I was to dedicate my life to God.  I was going to become a pastor in the Methodist Church.

I LIKE TO TALK

1953


During my first time in the third grade at William Penn Elementary School I had already learned that I did not fit. I must have had some friends though. I know that because of the trouble I got into for talking. Probably for punishment it came and not for any lasting good, I was assigned to write a 100 word essay on talking. 

My father was invited to the school to discuss my situation.  The teacher whose name I have forgotten was furious.  She needed help. Dad explained that I did cover the topic.  Also, that my writing fit into the definition of an essay.  He thought it was funny and explained that I should be congratulated on being creative.


The teacher was not hearing what she wanted to hear. She unloaded on my father and explained:

1. Charles can not spell.
2. Charles was unable to read on the third grade level. 
3. Charles did not know learn the multiplication tables except for 2x and 10x. 
4. Charles would not pay attention during lessons. 
5. All Charles does is day-dream. 
6. Charles is an intelligent boy if only he would apply himself.  
7. Charles is more than she could handle. After all, there are 19 other students she was responsible for teaching.

  My fate was sealed.  I did not know that Dad met with her.  I found out later that evening and I was told that things were going to change. Now the misery of third grade, like a virus infected my home.  After school, homework needed to be finished before I could go outside to play. The school week now included Saturday and Sunday evening.

On Saturdays, I would sit from early morning at the desk in the living room until late afternoon.  I never accomplished much except for honing my day-dreaming skills.In my mind, I wandered the fields and woods that surrounded my home. I also cried a lot.

I never learned the multiplication skills. Later I found a Webster's Instant Word Guide, 'the dumb book'. It did help me spell better except on spelling tests. I completed homework poorly except for art projects.  I used science to get into the woods. Cub Scouts on Wednesdays after school and the long walk home made the week worth living through. In all of this I ached to be a better student and I wanted to read.

I continue to day-dream, walk in the fields and woods  I am able to talk with just about any one and about nearly everything. I use a calculator and Excel. I have spell checker.  I never learned to read well until 15 years after I earned my master's Degree. Any success at William Penn Elementary School was infrequent and short lived.  Why try when each of my successful experiences were followed with, "See Charles you can do it. Now why don't you work like that all the time."

I learned that failure kids are smarter than the teachers who complain about them. Those teachers simply are not flexible enough to work with those students. 

THE CORNER OF THE ROOM

1951-1954
          
      From the first grade through the third grade I seemed to live in the corner of the room.  I must have stood there for countless hours.  At one point my desk was moved to the corner.  If ever I would donate a significant amount of money to an elementary school I would insist that a plaque with my name on it would be place in one corner of the first, second, and third grade classrooms. I discovered something standing there; if you want to stand out and apart from the rest of the crowd, you simply need to do something different.  It will work. And, if you do it right you will get paid for standing in the corner you created.

NANCY POOLE

Tuesday, 4 September 1951

I was nervous as I entered the room, rather shy, I glanced over the crowd already assembled.  A few seats remained open.  As I claimed my place I looked toward the front of the room. At the door stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  She was perfection personified: silky blond hair, flawless skin, a winsome smile, crystal blue eyes and dressed to kill. She caught my stare and smiled and I was smitten. She made her way through the crowd and to my surprise she chose a seat beside me.  My heart raced and I thought that I knew what love is.  I was five-and-one-half years old. This was my first day in the first grade.

My challenge was before me.  What I need more than life itself to be able to impress Nancy Poole. She proved to be charmingly smart.  She must have been an artist because she could color and stay within the lines.  She knew the alphabet and could add numbers.  When she would read aloud from our Dick and Jane book The New We Look and See her words, “Look” (the only word on page 3), and “Look, look. Oh, look. See Jane.” on page 7 seemed to fill the room with music. My thoughts over flowed with ways to impress that beautiful girl.  One afternoon during a water fountain break I knew what would work. I filled my mouth with water.  Returning to my desk I waited patiently and just before the next class started, I spit the water on Nancy’s desk.  She screamed!

I was introduced to the corner.  Not the result I anticipated.  Humiliated, I wanted to get even.  If I pushed her I would get in trouble.  I could throw dirt on her during recess and probably get into trouble.  I could pull her hair and get into trouble.  At William Penn Elementary School in 1950 the price a student had to pay for getting into trouble could be severe.  A verbal reprimand from my teacher brought embarrassment. Standing in the corner of the classroom was humiliating. Standing in the hall let everyone know you were a trouble maker.  Being sent to the principal’s office would result in severe punishment at school and an enviable beating at home.  The ultimate punishment for the hard core trouble maker was an in the hall spanking. A spanking with a hardwood yard stick or board sized for a child’s rear-end and designed for maximum effectiveness. For me there was no way to win. Yet I wanted to get even.

My opportunity to get even came in October.  The Advance Leader and Penn Progress Newspapers carried Elementary School Lunch Menus.  Today’s lunch was: Turkey a la King, Buttered Peas and Diced Carrots, Bread, Butter, Milk, Ice Cream Bar. After lunch was our lunch recess. Lunch recess was time of the day of the day that all of the boys looked forward to enjoying.  We were free to run, jump, push and yell.  This day was no different than others.  We inhaled our turkey-a-la-king on toast.  Peas and diced carrots went down un-chewed.  Milk was gulped. Time was of the essence because the faster we ate the more time we had to play.  At lunch we were required to eat everything in order to be released to the playground. Older students or a teacher guarded the garbage cans. No food was permitted in the garbage can. If there was any uneaten food on the tray the student was sent back to the lunch table to finish eating.  We raced out onto the playground. 

That particular day we must have played hard. In 1951 October days were unseasonably hot and nights were uncommonly cold.  The cold and flu season came early that year.    I remember, after all these years, drinking a lot of water before returning to my classroom.  Still sweating I sat there.  Something was not right.  My stomach ached and I felt dizzy.  Though I was sweating I felt cold. I became increasingly ill. I experienced the feeling before.  I knew I was going to vomit. However, I had just returned from lunch.  All boys were required to go to the restroom before class started.  I was not going to be excused from the class.  I was reaching the point of no return. The split second before regurgitating I looked at my desk.  I thought, I am going to ‘throw-up’ on my desk.  I quickly turned to my right and out came my un-chewed lunch.  Chunks of turkey, partially chewed toast, whole peas and dices of carrots with undigested milk and cream sauce slid across Nancy’s desk top and on to the floor. She screamed! 

This time I did not get into trouble or go to the corner or clean up my mess.  I was quickly ushered by the teacher out of the classroom. As we left the room, Nancy was weeping.  I was taken to the nurse’s office where I waited until a neighbor who had a car could come and get me.  I stayed home for three days of unexpected vacation to assure that I would not infect other children. When I returned to school the following Monday, my desk had been moved to another location in the room.  I realize that I got even with Nancy. 

A little boy becoming ill at school is not a life changing or even memorable event.  Yet, it is lesson that I learned then that has stayed with me.  There is always a way to get what you want and not get into trouble. You must be patient and creative at the same time.

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

   1951-1957    
          I remember walking to school.  It was two miles and up hill both ways and in the snow.   It snowed year round until summer. In the summer I did not have to walk to school. At the least that is what I must have thought as I tugged off to school in 1951.  I did not realize this then, I began growing up early in my life. 
          Smart for my age and a handful for mom she sent me to school early; 5 years and 6 months old.  The lessons I learned those first three years at William Penn Elementary School are lessons that  have lasted throughout my life and shaped my ability to succeed. The first was;  I did not like school, there had to be a better way to learn.