ALL THE SAME TO WHO?

On this Fall day I wanted to forget about the three "R"s.
And play ball like every school boy did before he had cars.
The new teacher acted mean but I wasn't a teeny bit scared.
She wasn't much older than me--I could fool her if I dared.

Her long skirt swished between the desks.  She wasn't very tall.
If she was a young girl sitting in front of me, I'd have a ball.
My buddy across the room gave me a wink.  What would he try?
Whatever he had in mind surely could make a teacher cry.

We hurried outside at recess time--my buddy and me.
The outhouse sheltered many secrets--we had a plan, you see.
This teacher needs to know that we are big boys now
And let's give her heck until lunch hour--oh wow.

We shook hands on that. We had made a pact--my buddy and me.
This was to be all in fun, you see. On this one thing we did agree.
The young teacher couldn't know what trouble was in store.
This was her first school.  She didn't have experience before.

We were late getting back.  Our names were written on the slate.
Our groans were load.  With long faces we protested out fate.
"If it's all the same to you, you could stay and mop the floor.
It would only take five minutes before racing out the door."

"Loan me your reading book." My buddy whispered across the room.
How could we have gotten two marks next to our names so soon?
Her back was turned when I tossed the book.  It was only a game.
We got in trouble, what was one more mark beside our name?

But no mark could compare to what next took place.
When the lady teacher got mad--oh the look on her face.
My shirt collar was lifted, my desk flew far away.
I was in the grips of a wrestler, I started to pray.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather take a whipping."
I don't know why I said that. I must have gone a flipping.
Her desk was dark and cool with my behind laying there.
I wondered if my buddy would turn up for his share.

The next day when time for school, I sorely made my way.
I stood in the back of the room hoping for a short day.
The teacher said to take my seat. "Do you need a hand?"
If it's all the same to you," I said, "I think I'd rather stand."

THE OLD TIME BOX SUPPER

Gaily decorated boxes lined the table in the old school house.
Old geezers and young boys guessed which box was whose.
The auction started and they all had a chance to choose.
It seemed like all sweethearts had no choice but to lose.

An old bachelor was stubbornly bidding on "my" box.
I was glad I had the foresight to switch with Grandma Fox.
She'd enjoy his company much more--of that I was sure.
I hoped he liked her Lemon pie so sweet and pure.

Grandma's box came up next. The auctioneer held it high.
The teacher bid on it. I swallowed a gulp, and then a sigh.
I wished I could somehow disappear just like a mouse.
Eat supper with him? I'd rather be alone with my house.

The auction was finally over. I was sure I would die.
I dropped down at a table to wait my embarrassing fate,
But to my surprise a young man appeared. He was not shy.
Only on this first date I didn't tell him Grandma made the pie.

A TRIBUTE TO THE ONE- ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE

Alone she stands, abandoned and forsaken, in spite of her faithful service for generations.
Her walls weep for the children who no longer come to visit but pass her by.
Her youth and beauty have fled with the passing years, but her wisdom remains to haunt her.
Those who loved her speak of her fondly---no one else understands or appreciates her.
"Where are the children?" She cries out in deep sorrow.  Those she nurtured come no more.

The wind howls like it always did.  The sun sends forth it's rays.  Everything is the same as before--
Except there are no children. No one whispering in the seats, no paper airplanes gliding in the air.
No one plays ball or tag or Red Rover anymore on her fields of green. No snow forts or sledding.
No one builds a Maypole and dances merrily around it.The slipper-slide proudly stands waiting--
But no one comes dashing up her steps and zooms down her slick and polished trail. 
It too cries out in sorrow, "Where are the children?"

The silence is depressing to her crumbling walls.  The piano stands stately at the front of the room.
She always invited young ones to explore her black and white keys and make them jump for joy.
Play along with me she teased as her automatic player rolled out tunes and children swayed and
sang to her lively pace.  But it is no more.

Children have deserted her in favor or big flashy city schools where hot meals, vending machines, and sports are the newest thing. She exists only in our memory now.  Gone are the ball games, marbles, snowfights, paper airplanes, sack lunches, outhouses, recesses, waxed slipper-slides,
and tricks played on a youthful teacher barely out of school herself.

Ode to School Days

I didn't make my bed today.
I hurried off to school and play.
Time was what I wanted to stay
While I beat you at marbles-oh say!

I didn't do my math yesterday-
I flew a paper airplane-time was spent
The lunch hour came but didn't stay.
Oh how I wished it never went.

I best be in my seat when the bell rings.
I'd rather be out on the wooden swings.
Miss Harper checked my math page today--
It's Friday--but I won't get to play.

I didn't hear her call my name.
I was daydreaming--just the same
Like yesterday, when I flew my plane.
I think I need to polish my explain.

I got detention for that trick.
I cleaned the blackboard real slick.
But thats not all--the hour is not done.
The floor needs mopped. This is no fun.

Here comes my Pop.  I've had it for sure.
The chicken house is full of manure.
He walks me home. It seems like a mile.
I guess I won't play for quite awhile.