Thanks for sharing your story! I am sure that the principal that visited you will be very interested in everything you will be able to share with them now.

I can't imagine living away from home at such a young age!

Were you one of the youngest ones there?

Thank you for sharing. I hope you'll post some more.

Charlotte

I can't imagine living away (or sending my daughter away) at that young age. I'm just curious why you did. Was it a better education?

Why did I live away from home?

First-it was traditional in my family to attend that school.

Second- We lived in the country; there was no school bus.

Third- Absolutely no one at that time would have thought of driving 20 miles to school every day.

I had skipped two grades so I was really much too young for high school. Academically I was fine, but socially it was somewhat difficult.

Yes, I was the youngest one in the high school. In another part of the building were facilities for "mimums" who were grade school children who for whatever reason were sent to boarding school. We had very little contact with them.

I was the oldest in the family and as I look back it seems to me that it was always assumed that I was somewhat more mature than I actually was.

Yes, I think that the oldest in the family is considered somewhat semi-adult ... and I imagine that it would be even more so for one-child families.

Dad had an above average sized farm and I was 10 when World War II started in 1939 and the hired man/men went off to war. For the next several years, what Dad and that son and a couple of younger ones got done ... got done ... and the rest didn't.

Dad said that he didn't mind work ... and I can attest to the truth of that statement ... but he also said that if he could let his head figure a way to get the work done that his hands did with minimal deterioration in standards ... he was glad to have that happen (not quite the language that Dad used).

ole joyfuelled

Thanks for sharing this. You have an impressive memory! I, too, went to a Catholic boarding school, but for 5th and 6th grades. I don't remember most of the detail you described, although I remember my "room" very well (same as yours, except it had three walls and a curtain), the uniforms, the bathtubs, and some of the rules. I also remember several of the nuns. But most of all I remember the homesickness and the terrible lump in my throat.

My situation was different from yours, though, as I was there because my mother had died 10 months earlier. Also, I wasn't Catholic, so the convent school was another world in many ways. When my father and I arrived that first day, and the vast doors opened, I got my very first look at a nun! :-)

I loved photography even in those days. Here's a picture I took of two students rollerskating by the school.

Seniorgal, what kind of meals did you have at school? You know, I think that lots of kids would thrive with a routine like that, even today.

That is an awesome story. Thank you! I think kids today would be far better off to have such a routine. Straight lines, uniforms, regimented time slots. High expectations to get high results.

Your memories are fascinating to me!

Wonderful! I'm so envious of your memory, sg; mine has always been pretty bad. I'm going to read my mom your post a little later--she's 94. (And only knows how to use the iPad to read books. :) )

Alisande, great pic as usual!

Alisande, I couldn't see your picture. All I got was a red x in the upper left corner.

I'm not good with pictures. any ideas?

What kind of meals did we have?? I was accustomed to eating what was put before me so I don't recall much of the exact foods. I do know that the man who handled the heating plant kept a garden for us so we had lots of fresh vegetables. Bread was baked by a nun who worked in the kitchen as were all of the cakes and cookies.

I would say the meals were nourishing and generally good. Everything was "homemade" in those days.

One amusing thing I DO remember is that one of the first weeks of school word went out (mostly to the Freshmen, I think) that we were having "fish eyes" for dessert.

Now I'd never heard of it and dreaded it. Turned out to be the large size tapioca which was round and clear. I didn't care for it, but I think I ate it, being thankful that, at least, it wasn't fish eyes.

I don't know what to tell you about the picture, Seniorgal, other than clicking refresh (or pressing the F5 key) sometimes helps.

Your post brought back so many memories. My father died and times were very tough, my Mother couldn't support us. I was four years old and my brother was eight when we were put into a Masonic orphanage. It was a wonderful place. There were more than 600 children there, but we always felt that we were treated as individuals. There was never any physical punishment.

We didn't have to wear uniforms, we went to a Protestant church for Sunday school and to the local public school. We had nutritious food (there was a large organic garden on the property) and I think that my good health today is largely due to that formative time.

We were divided into departments with children about the same age. I had about 20 'sisters' and I can't remember that there much quarreling. We slept in large dormitories without any curtains. Our routines were much like the OPs. A bell rang at 6:30, it was time to get up, we made our beds and got dressed. The bathroom had several large, round, marble sinks with many spigots. We gathered around to wash ourselves each morning. We had no privacy, but we were so used to it that it never crossed my mind to even think about it. I imagine that the older children did have privacy.

I agree that routine was good for us, we always knew what to expect, and what was expected of us. We did everything together, we walked to school as a group, two by two. We did our homework together, and little cleaning jobs. We had plenty of time to play - outside in summer, and in the winter, games, books, puzzles, a piano, and a radio. Every Friday night there was a movie shown in the basement of the orphanage. It must have been hard to select movies that would be appropriate for kids of different ages.

We too had to write letters home every other week. Every second weekend was visitors' day and my mother never missed coming. After a while, a man started to come with her. He was to become our step-father when I was ten years old. We were so lucky, if medals were given out for best all-time loving step-father, he would have a chest full of them. We left the orphanage after being there for six years to be with our new family, I missed it for a long time.

Oh my goodness Alisande and Shymilfromchi!! How sad....at least to me. You both seem to have adapted fine, but I just can't imagine! How awful for a mother to have to leave her children in an orphanage. I'm sorry, I just am having a hard time wrapping my brain around this. I came from a very Beaver Cleaver life and cannot begin to understand. I'm glad you both seem to have some fond memories!

Shymilfromchi, it's wonderful to hear of an orphanage where the children felt cared for and respected. We've all heard stories about places that were nothing like that. You and Seniorgal have excellent memories!

It must have been so hard for your mother, having to put her children in an orphanage on top of losing her husband. I'm sure she quickly realized it was a good place.

Similar to your experience, I came home when my father remarried. I don't remember missing my boarding school, although I'm sure I must have missed some of my friends and a nun or two. I was so glad to be home at last. I didn't adjust well to public school, though. After one year, my dad enrolled me in a Lutheran school for 8th grade. I was happy there.

Interesting stories from all. I am glad that these were good/fun times and my DD did go to a boarding school, as did many in the church we belonged to. Her Jr/Sr years and the Jr year was very good, and the Sr not so good. But she did get a good education and did make friends. She then went on to 2 years for a Jr. College and got her degree in Natural Science.
Thanks for sharing

I have a recording that I made when mother, in her advanced age, described her family's move from Arkansas to Oklahoma in about 1909.

Mother was born on Boston Mountain in Arkansas. Her family had come to that location from Missouri in the 1890s seeking land for the expanding family. Her father patented 160 acres as did grandfather. Father, a farmer, was disappointed with the thin top soil and rocks that tended to break up his equipment. Grandfather was elderly but had his third wife who was much younger than him. (The precending wives had died, but grandfather had sired children by all thee wives.) In the winter of 1908-09, grandfather's 3rd wife died! She came down with pneumonia after tending a sick child, one of my mother's siblings. Aftre her death, Father prepared to move the family to Oklahoma. He had missed the major land rushes and was resigned to farming rented lands until he could get a farm of his own.

On the day of departure from Arkansas, the family's possessions were loaded into two horse drawn wagons and they drove around the neighborhood saying goodbyes to their neighbors and friends. The wagons were driven by mother's father and an older brother.

The family made their way to the train station where mother, the younger children, and ancient grandfather boarded the train to Oklahoma. The wagons would follow to meet with them about 2 weeks later. Mother was about 5 years old.

When the train arrived in Osage county, OK, mother and her family got off the train. The Browns met them and was their host for first few weeks in Oklahoma. The Brown family had been former neighbors and very good friends of mother's family. As they stepped off the train, my mother was facinated by the sight of Native Americans. It was her first view of them, and some males wore the traditional breech cloths. There was a light snowfall on the ground and mother had shed her shoes on the train. She stepped out barefoot into the snow and barely noticed, her awe of native Americans being so great.

Mother told about her 'night-fear' at times. It was the family's practice on cold nights to put a young child to bed with grandpa as a bed warmer for him. When it was her turn, she laid awake with fear that grandpa would die while in bed with her. Her Grandfather did die in 1910 at age 98.

Mother's first school was at Gray Horse, a federal school for locals and Reservation Native Americans. The school was a 2 story stone building with basement. The school teacher and his wife lived in the basement.

One day in December, Mother's father announced he had found a place to farm and the they would be moving some 20 miles away. This interrupted mother's school year and her older brother was in the 8th grade. The school master found janitoral jobs at the school for her brother so that he could complete his last year of schooling. During the week, he lived in the school basement, but had to vacate during the weekends. On Friday afternoon, my uncle would begain his long trek home and then return on Sunday afternoon.

It had been the practice of the Reservation Native Americans to place their deceased on elevated platforms (out of reach of dogs, wolves, etc). The body was positioned facing the sky. Items he might need for his trip to the beyond were placed with him. These might be beads, a bow and arrows, a knife and maybe a personal decoration. It was their thought that the spirit needed some time to assend heavenward. After about 30 days when the body had dried, it would be taken down for final burial.

The Federal Indian Agent was agast of this burial practice. He ordered it to cease. In its place, the Native Americans began to construct little houses over the shallow graves where the bodies had been laid to rest.

Now, backj to my uncle and his long homeward weekend trek. Texas cattlemen leased reservation grasslands in the Osage region for final fattening their cattle for market. Often, these were herds of Texas Long Horns. One evening while my Uncle was walking home across these grasslands, a long horn bull took unkindly notice of him. He could tell by the threat motions that the bull was about to charge and he was without any defence, not even a walking stick and no cover. Fortunatley, he spied an Indian burial ground with those little houses. He made his way to it dropped from view hiding either behind or in a burial shelter. The ruse worked. The bull stopped his threat after my Uncle dropped out of sight. My uncle stayed hidden until the herd moved on and was far enough distant that he could safely move away. He credited those burial houses for saving his life.

Very interesting stories from all. Thanks for sharing.

I'm sorry I did not choose to attend a preparatory academy instead of the public high school I did attend. The public school had good standing, but referendums had failed, and it was completely unprepared for the Baby Boomers. We were on double shifts my junior and senior years. The year after I graduated a second township high school opened, followed by two more. I would have had better preparation for college in either of the two boarding schools.

OTOH, my mother had excellent preparation in a one-room school in rural Rhode Island. When she moved into the city at age 13, the school superintendent didn't know where to place her. She had nearly completed their high school curriculum.

I was an adult before I 'broke the code' on my grandmother's reasoning for leaving the farm that my mother loved. She said it was time to leave because "the bulls were getting over the fences".

Seniorgal, I am one year younger than you are, and I've always thought I had had an interesting life story. Now my life seems very humdrum compared to yours and some others here. I've appreciated reading all of them. Thanks to all of you for the stories.

An interesting side note: just this morning I heard on the radio someone, and I didn't get his name or any of his background, but he said something to this effect: "There used to be orphanages, some were good, some were bad. Now there are Foster homes, and some are good and some are bad." I was not able, time wise, to hear the rest of his comments, but it made me think. Which would be best in these days, when so many children are living in dire circumstances?

Something to think about, isn't it?

Sue

What wonderful stories! Some of them brought tears to my eyes. Coming from the rural South, my childhood was not exactly a Beaver Cleaver one. We didn't have much nor did any of our neighbors. What we did have were parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles who loved us and provided a safe home and great values to grow up in. To all of them who have gone on, I give thanks each day. Thanks for your stories which have broadened my horizons today.

I have always felt sorry for young children sent to boarding school, away from their families. I am amazed that the English seemed to accept it with no qualms for their young children. I can understand if one lived too far away from any school, and I certainly understand that some families needed to provide for the care of the children when the mother was gone. I loved hearing how Salgal actually found the experience so comfortable and positive.

I was born as WWII was brewing. I grew up in a mid western river town in a family of 6. My parents made us feel loved and safe. When I was 12, our mother died. I was the middle girl, and so we soldiered on to keep the house, do the chores, and prepare and clean up the meals. Our parents had set expectations and standards, and we managed to maintain them. But my poor father had to survive his 3 daughters learning to cook.

I "really" enjoyed reading the OPs' life stories-thank you for sharing!

Wow, your stories are all so amazing and so different than the life I have known. I think of your stories as a lovely book or a movie. To think you actually lived these experiences is amazing to me. Thanks for sharing.

Seniorgal, thank you so much for sharing your stories! I look forward to reading more from you.

I also admire you for embracing technology. My own mother just turned 80, has no interest in using a computer, and barely uses a cell phone. Yet, she complains about being isolated from news of family and friends. I think she is intimidated by the thought of trying to learn something new.

Please continue to share your history. You are a gifted writer and storyteller.

I'm glad boarding schools were pretty much a thing of the past when my children were born. There is no way I would have sent my children.

As for myself, after losing my mother at a young age I think I would have died of loneness without my aunt and cousins.

patti

I was born during the Great Depression and just missed the boarding school era at my location. Shortly before, boarding schools were a necessity in my community if you were to go on to high school. I lived 10 miles out of town and in 1930, it did not have a high school. The nearest high school was 10 more miles away to the next town. That school was 20 miles away and in a different tax district - commuting was not practical. If you went to HS, you boarded at the school or stayed at a private home near the school. Fortunate for me, our little town built its HS in 1943 (with levies on oilwell production), established bus routes, and it was there for me in 1950. A short time before that, say 1920, an 8th grade education was considered adequate for starting your adult life. But even at that date, it was becomming clear that more education was needed if one were to move upscale in jobs or career.

Boarding schools are alive and well even now, Patti. The Country Day School in our town (Pre-K through 8) hosts an annual open house for parents where at least fifty prep schools and military academies from all over the US are represented.

I enjoyed all of these stories so much. Keep writing. Write books!!! I'm 53 and I never heard of boarding schools except what I read about in books.
I was raised in the South and we were surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, grand parents, I never knew of anyone being sent to an orphanage or boarding school if a parent passed on, and I'm young enough by the time I started school we rode buses.
This is all so interesting to me. Thank you
I'm glad all of your experiences were good.