Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, May 20, 2021

Soothing the Savage Teacher

Ignore the glasses. But love the shoes!
I love to sing.
How I love to sing.
I'm not saying I'm any good at it. But I love to do it.
I sing all of the time.
When I'm cleaning.
Eating.
Sleeping.
Shopping. Actually, that is a big one. Usually, people just stare and shake their heads, but occasionally, someone will comment.
"Someone's in a good mood!"
Or, "Someone really loves shopping!"
Or, my favourite, "Mommy, that lady sings weird!"
I always have a song stuck in my head.
Usually something good.
Sometimes not.
Me, standing in line to buy tickets at the Citadel Theatre: "I have the worst song stuck in my head!"
Lady behind me with hands over her ears: "I know! And now it's stuck in mine!!!"
Moving on . . .
Singing calms me. It is my companion whenever I am doing something that doesn't require great concentration.
Dishes.
Laundry.
Sewing. Actually, sewing is probably my big one. 
It was through sewing that I realized that I love to sing while working with my hands.
Let me explain:
I was in Home Economics. Home-Ec or Ugh! for short.
We were sewing.
Aprons, I think.
Mine looked like . . . well, let's just say that no human being would ever be able to wear it, and leave it at that.
But I was happy.
And I was singing. You Are My Sunshine, as I recall.
A happy, cheerful sort of song that just went with the day.
My teacher, Mrs. M walked past.
"Diane! Quit singing!"
Now I don't want to suggest, here, that her reason for her protest was the quality of my singing.
Although it probably was.
I like to think she was trying to keep order in the classroom.
It's better for my ego.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was."
Silence for a few minutes. Sounds of sewing machines . . . umm . . . sewing.
Then, "You are my Sunshine . . ."
"Diane!"
"Oops. Sorry!"
More sewing.
"My only Sunshine . . ."
"Diane!!"
Notice the two exclamation points. That is to indicate the raising of Mrs. M's voice a trifle.
"Darn! Sorry, Mrs. M, I don't realize I'm doing it."
"Well, realize it!"
"Okay."
Still more sewing.
"Please don't take my Sunshine away!"
Mrs. M didn't give third warnings.
Instead, she walked past me and smacked me in the back of the head.
Teachers occasionally did that in the sixties. A trait that was left in the past. Happily.
It got my attention.
Briefly. 
But I must be a slow learner.
Because it didn't stop me.
Instead, it made me realize that I love to sing.
I'm not saying that I'm any good at it . . .
You know the rest.

10 comments:

  1. Whoa! Can't imagine hitting a child nowadays. I think it's wonderful when people sing. I love to croon in the car -- no one can hear me!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am glad that love has stayed with you. And remember when teachers could (and did) issues a short hard slap.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fortunately, that's my one and only throughout my school career.
      It rather stayed with me!

      Delete
  3. Hmmm, when my son was 2 he asked me not to sing anymore. We must be related, somehow. My 1st grade teacher used a ruler on the errant student's hands. Not a fan of corporal punishment in school. Certain U.S. states still allow it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. HAHAHAHA! Keep singing anyways, Alana!
      Yikes! A ruler?!

      Delete
  4. Like you, i love to sing. My Sweetie likes to sing. He sings in the church choir, and i help the choir by not singing.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I sing very badly, so mostly I keep my mouth shut. I whisper along with the radio now and again, but no one can hear me.

    ReplyDelete

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