Just Thinkin' about Stinkin' Lincoln

Stinkin' Lincoln

by Sandpoint artist extraordinaire Cheryl Klein

I really wasn't thinking about Lincoln until I scrolled through my old photos to find another bright one for Kathy.

And, there was Cheryl's painting.

She did this one for my book cover nearly four years ago.

And, that's me, the clumsy-looking one playing tether ball.

More than likely that when that kid hit the ball, it probably slammed into my face.  I'm that clumsy.

In fact the other day, when the doctor asked me to do some simple task with my mouth and my nose, I forgot to do the last half, and he had to tell me to do it again.  I'm that clumsy and uncoordinated.

I love this painting of Lincoln.  Cheryl, of course, used a little artistic license to incorporate the appropriate scene for Marianne's yesteryear.

I chose my grade school over my high school cuz good ol' Lincoln has a lot more artistic flair than those buildings constructed from the 1950s on.

Besides, that's where education began for this ol' educator.

I can look at those windows and remember personal moments in each.

The lower left was Mrs. Kinney's first grade back in 1953-'54.  I was bent over at a bookcase next to one of the windows when that jet crashed in the pole yard just two blocks away.

I was putting away workbooks and proud to be the row monitor that day.

Suddenly, the explosion and some shattering of glass.  We were whisked home as soon as possible.  A pilot died in that crash, and we were so fortunate that he was the only fatality.

In the window on the left, Hazel Lunn taught us.  I swore she was 100 years old, and I probably swore when she put U's in penmanship on my report card cuz I did not make a big enough loop for my 5's and S's.

You can be sure I corrected that in a hurry.  Still, those teachers back then were convinced that we lefties would never learn to write our words and sentences properly.

The room above Mrs. Lunn's was Mrs. Alberta Sutliff's fourth grade.  At the time, we thought she was the only nice teacher in the school.  

At least, I thought that until the day she spanked me while I was in the aisle between desks on all fours, five seats up from where I was supposed to be sitting.  

Would you believe I was talking to one of my friends?

I never really held that spanking (only one I ever received----as a student, that is) against Mrs. Sutliff cuz she remained pretty nice and friendly.

I'm not going to talk about Altha Young's third grade class or Hazel Beck's fifth grade room cuz they're in the back, and Cheryl couldn't do multi-dimensional in this painting.

The room on the right, second floor has lots of memories:  penmanship with those weird ballpoint pens Marvel Ekholm had the PTA people sell.  We had to use our product in class, and I never did think those pens were very practical.

I was NOT chewing gum one day when Marvel (the principal) thought I was.  We had Mr. Scheibe and Mrs. Fredstrom for teachers in that classroom.

One day Marvel walked by toward her office, glared at me through the classroom door window and then summoned me to the door with her index finger.

When I reached the door and stepped outside, she asked, "Are you chewing gum?"

To which I said "no."  I did and always have chewed on my tongue, but I didn't want to share that with her.

I opened my mouth to prove that I was telling the truth, and she sent me back to my seat.  

Those teachers at Lincoln School did place the "fear of God" in most of us, and that was back in the day when God could come to school. 

He came to Lincoln every single day with the Bible reading.  I don't know if that made us any better people, but at least He was there, doing his best.

Lincoln School occupies a pretty big spot in my bank of childhood memories, so Cheryl's painting seemed like an appropriate selection for today's posting.

As mean as those teachers may have seemed, they did their work well, giving us a foundation to go out there and do a few things right.

And, that charming building must have done something right, cuz it's still standing while others of its era are but memories.