My Dad just after WWII -First Lieutenant
Sister Susan and Me - on our way to France
Quonset Hut SchoolhouseAfter France, the Bean family moved to Fort Worth, Texas where Dad worked at Carswell Air Force Base. It was 1956 – the start of the Cold War. The biggest bombers of them all , the B52’s carrying hydrogen bombs, took off at all hours of the day and night. The sign at the base entrance said "Strategic Air Command: Peace is our Profession".
Our trip back was pleasant – a first class cabin on the S.S. United States from Cherbourg to New York. There was one frightening episode the first day out. The lifeboat drill alarm sounded when I was by myself. and I thought the ship was sinking. Otherwise it was smooth sailing. My sister, Susan, and I loved the Spanish melon in the dining room. It was Easter in the North Atlantic complete with an on-board Easter Egg hunt for kids.
Driving a new Buick from New York to Texas was an experience. My sister, Susan, worried the whole way about our new school. She was afraid no one would speak French!
She was right, they didn’t.
Our school in France held 35 students in six grades . One teacher for grades 1,2 and 3. And one for 4,5 and 6. The two classrooms were housed in a small Quonset hut on the army base in Sampigny, about 8 miles from St. Mihiel. Each classroom had a coal stove for heat in the winter and there were no flush toilets – just latrines at the back of the playground. A military ambulance picked us up and delivered us to school each day. By the time I left France for ‘home’, I had only had one teacher since first grade.
The day I entered the 4th grade at Castleberry Elementary School in Fort Worth was a complete culture shock. It was a two story building with 600 kids. I knew no one. There were 25 kids in my classroom and one teacher. She seemed OK. At the first opportunity, my classmates were delighted to show me the state regulation classroom paddle on a hook next to the blackboard. That was for the bad kids I was told. I wondered how many bad kids went to school in Texas if every teacher needed a paddle to defend herself. The alarm bells for recess and lunchtime reminded me of the lifeboat drill on the Titanic. I was petrified!
That night when I went home, I cried and cried.
“I don’t want to go to school,” I bawled.
Dad came into my room and knelt down next to the bed.
“I know it’s hard,” Dad said.
“Don’t worry, Listen and I’ll tell you what to do.”
Then he gave me these words of advice.
“Tomorrow, when you go to school you only have to do one thing,” he advised. “Make a friend. That’s all just make a friend.”
The next day, I did what he said - I made a new friend. Dad was right. I definitely felt better and after a while I knew I would be OK in my new school. Since then, whenever I’m in a new situation, I remember Dad’s advice and look for a friend. It worked for him, and it works for me too.
Our trip back was pleasant – a first class cabin on the S.S. United States from Cherbourg to New York. There was one frightening episode the first day out. The lifeboat drill alarm sounded when I was by myself. and I thought the ship was sinking. Otherwise it was smooth sailing. My sister, Susan, and I loved the Spanish melon in the dining room. It was Easter in the North Atlantic complete with an on-board Easter Egg hunt for kids.
Driving a new Buick from New York to Texas was an experience. My sister, Susan, worried the whole way about our new school. She was afraid no one would speak French!
She was right, they didn’t.
Our school in France held 35 students in six grades . One teacher for grades 1,2 and 3. And one for 4,5 and 6. The two classrooms were housed in a small Quonset hut on the army base in Sampigny, about 8 miles from St. Mihiel. Each classroom had a coal stove for heat in the winter and there were no flush toilets – just latrines at the back of the playground. A military ambulance picked us up and delivered us to school each day. By the time I left France for ‘home’, I had only had one teacher since first grade.
The day I entered the 4th grade at Castleberry Elementary School in Fort Worth was a complete culture shock. It was a two story building with 600 kids. I knew no one. There were 25 kids in my classroom and one teacher. She seemed OK. At the first opportunity, my classmates were delighted to show me the state regulation classroom paddle on a hook next to the blackboard. That was for the bad kids I was told. I wondered how many bad kids went to school in Texas if every teacher needed a paddle to defend herself. The alarm bells for recess and lunchtime reminded me of the lifeboat drill on the Titanic. I was petrified!
That night when I went home, I cried and cried.
“I don’t want to go to school,” I bawled.
Dad came into my room and knelt down next to the bed.
“I know it’s hard,” Dad said.
“Don’t worry, Listen and I’ll tell you what to do.”
Then he gave me these words of advice.
“Tomorrow, when you go to school you only have to do one thing,” he advised. “Make a friend. That’s all just make a friend.”
The next day, I did what he said - I made a new friend. Dad was right. I definitely felt better and after a while I knew I would be OK in my new school. Since then, whenever I’m in a new situation, I remember Dad’s advice and look for a friend. It worked for him, and it works for me too.
DAKTARI
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