Either nobody told me which classroom was mine or I simply forgot. When the bell rang I went into the wrong room. The teacher called roll and I said "here" when my name was called. It turned out that some kid who was supposed to be in that class had moved away over the summer and apparently nobody told the school. The kid's name was "Charles" or something that sounded like to to me.
Since everybody was accounted for, the teacher started into our first lesson. (I think that this was the legendary Mrs. Bernard (or was she a second grade teacher?).) After some time somebody stuck her head into the classroom to see if I happened to have been misplaced. I had. I was taken next door to Miss Welty's classroom.
I guess I was so traumatized by that first day that I don't really remember much about that year of school. Except for the butter.
One day we got to churn butter. With our own little hands. We all took turns turning the crank on the churn. After a while we had a lump of butter. Real butter. Miss Welty had also made a loaf of bread. I seem to remember that it was somehow baked right there in the classroom. We each got a slice of fresh bread and handmade butter!
I wouldn't touch it.
I was under the impression that Mom didn't like butter. If Mom didn't like butter then Charley didn't like butter! Charley doesn't eat what Charley doesn't like. He won't even give it a taste!
Miss Welty tried and tried to get me to give it a try. I'd have none of it. She persevered. I finally acquiesced. I touched the tip of my tongue to the butter and said "There! I've tried it!" And that was the last time I ate real butter for a long time.
Years later I learned that Mom didn't like store bought butter. That it was nothing like glorious, home churned butter. (I still don't understand how margarine was supposed to be a better substitute for hand churned butter than store bought butter.)
That was my first and last encounter with hand churned butter. I blew it.
Actually, Mrs. Mundinger probably was my teacher then.
First, kindergarten started with Mrs. Thomas and ended with Mrs. O'Flaherty. Then first grade started with Miss Welty and ended with Mrs. Mundinger. Does this happen each year? Life is so confusing!
But this time pregnancy wasn't involved (I guess). Miss Welty got married early in the school year and became Mrs. Mundinger.
I apparently was in love with Mrs. Mundinger. My souvenirs box has more memories of her than of any other teacher.
I have her school picture:
The newspaper account of her wedding:
Her Valentine to me:
Mrs. Mundinger
Her Valentine to me:
I need to get some cream and churn me some butter!
5 comments:
How do you remember all those things?
It makes me sad that you were so traumatized on your first day of first grade.
Lots of luck with your butter if you decide to churn some. If I recall my childhood correctly, I think you have to let ihe cream sour a bit before churning it. And of course we only used raw milk and I'm not sure homogenized cream would work. Or is there such a thing as homogenized cream?
We made butter in elementary school, too. I remember the teacher putting cream in a jar, and we all took turns shaking the jar, passing it around the circle until it was butter. We had it on saltine crackers and it was goooood.
can you do it in the kitchenaide?
I love fresh butter.
We go through lots of butter.
Thanks, Poss. The results of the Google search "churn butter kitchenaid" give me good ideas.
Now all I have to do is find a cream wholesaler.
I don't remember making butter, though if everybody else did, I probably just forgot. I remember hatching chicks in an incubator; but I think that was 2nd or 3rd grade.
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