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.