Prairie School

by Lois Lenski

  Delores slipped her shoes off and left them by the stove to dry. She ran upstairs to change. Just before supper, Papa came home in the truck. He had decided to lease land again for the coming year from Charlie Spotted Bear, the Indian on Oak Creek. He had gone to the Indian Agency in Fort Yates to see about it.

  “How are the roads, Johannes?’’ asked Mama.

  “Not bad, not bad,” he said. “I slid around a little but come out easy.”

  “Papa, Miss Martin says the coal at school is about gone,” said Delores. “There’s not enough to last till Christmas. She told me to tell you. Maybe you like to haul a load over before the roads get bad, hey?”

  “Yah, yah,” said Johannes. “As if I got no other things to do.”

  “But at the school, Johannes,” began Mama, “with all the little children there. It should be plenty warm. And for Teacher, too—she eats and sleeps there.”

  “Yah, yah,” said Johannes. “First I get coal for my own self, then for Teacher.”

  “Teacher ordered a Christmas tree already,” laughed Delores. “She told Emil Holzhauer if he sees one at Holzers’ store, to buy one for the school.”

  “Christmas trees in November!” snorted Johannes. “All foolishness. These wimmens—always they think up foolishness. It’s a long time till Christmas.”

  Mama put the food on the table and sat down. “Pull up your chairs,” she said, as the boys came in. Christy jumped on his mother’s lap and began to pound the table with a spoon.

  “Yes, wimmens is fools,” said Mama. “Every year I say it: the first snow is not so bad. But I know in my heart, and Teacher, she knows too, it is the beginning of the long hard winter.”

  “Maybe it will snow all night,’’ said Darrell excitedly.

  “And blow up drifts as high as the house,” added Philip.

  “If we can’t go to school tomorrow,” said Delores, “I’ll cry my eyes out.”

  “Ach! This snow, it is nothing, nothing,” said Papa Johannes.

  He looked at the three children sitting at the supper table, eating big helpings of beef stew, mashed potatoes and gravy. He looked at fat little Christy on his wife’s lap. The children were strong and healthy, and their cheeks were red as apples from the cold air and the snow.

  “You boys—you are not babies, I hope?" he said scornfully.

  “No, Papa,” said Darrell.

  “No, Papa,” said Philip.

  “A little cold weather, then you can take it?”

  “Yah, Papa.”

  “Yah, Papa.”

  Papa leaned over and pulled a lock of Delores’ yellow hair.

  “How about you, young lady? You take it too?”

  Delores grinned. “Yah, Papa. Sure.”

  CHAPTER IV

  The Christmas Program

  “ONLY NINE MORE SLEEPS till Christmas!” exclaimed Delores. “Oh, I just can’t wait to see what I’m gonna get,” said Fernetta. The two girls put their heads together, giggling.

  “Jacob drew my name,” whispered Delores. “Tell me what he’s got for me.”

  “No, sir, it’s a secret,” said Fernetta. “But it’s something nice.”

  “Please, Fernetta, please.” Delores jumped up and down. “Tell me.”

  But Fernetta wouldn’t. “I bet that old Emil Holzhauer will give me a fly-swatter or something crazy. He’s loco!”

  The girls burst into peals of laughter.

  “Boy! Won’t he look purty dressed up in whiskers?”

  Emil’s head came round the curtain. “Boo!” he shouted. “I’m gonna be Santa Claus and scare the little kids.” He held his mask up in front of his face, and the girls tried to snatch it off.

  The Oak Leaf children were getting ready for their Christmas program, and had already drawn names for the exchange of gifts. The first snow had long been forgotten. Other snows had come in late November and early December. The prairie was white now, surrounded by snow-topped buttes. Snow was an everyday experience, while overshoes and heavy wraps had become daily necessities.

  The program was to be held in the evening, to make it easier for the parents to come. The children worked hard to get ready. They made a big fireplace out of cardboard cartons, and pasted red lined crepe paper on to look like bricks. Darrell made a base for the Christmas tree, bought by Emil long ago in November and kept carefully hidden in the barn until now. Chris Bieber and his wife, Vera Mae, who had no children, brought a battery and a string of lights for the tree. The boys helped string the lights on while the girls stood and admired.

  The desks were turned around to face the back of the room. Jacob and Wilmer Sticklemeyer stretched the curtain wire across, and hung the stage curtains on it. This made it possible to use the teacherage kitchen for a dressing room. The Biebers and the Hummels brought lanterns, one for kerosene and the other a gas lantern with a mantle, which made a very bright light.

  Evening came all too soon. The people arrived early, as soon as evening chores were done. There were the Hummels, Sniders, Engleharts and the Sticklemeyers, who had children in school, and the Burgards, Hunstads and Becklers, whose children were grown up now. All the families brought their younger children, who were soon running around the schoolroom. The last ones to arrive were Johannes and Minna Wagner.

  “So much to do,” complained Mrs. Wagner. “My work, it never gets done.” The other mothers nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Is it going to snow?” asked Mrs. Englehart. “Ain’t it about time for a real good storm?’’

  “Ach no! We want no storms this winter,” said Mrs. Pete Hummel. “I remember a storm once…” The talk went on and on.

  At eight o’clock, Miss Martin herded the children into her bedroom to put on their costumes.

  “I brought my records,” said Ruby Englehart. “I got two records to play.”

  “Delores, has the phonograph come?” asked Miss Martin.

  “Darrell drove to town to get it,” said Delores. “He’ll be here any minute. Ruby’s got ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Silent Night.’”

  Delores was to be Mrs. Santa Claus. She put on her mother’s old black silk dress and a little lace cap of Grandma Wagner’s. She stood in front of Teacher’s mirror in the kitchen and rouged her cheeks and painted her lips. Then she peeped through a hole in the stage curtain, but Darrell wasn’t there.

  “Jeepers!” she cried. “There’s Uncle Gustaf.”

  He hadn’t said a word about coming. He had probably brought Christmas presents for everybody. He always gave her something nice. She wondered what it would be this year. Oh, it was exciting not knowing what anybody was going to give you.

  Fernetta Sticklemeyer came out of Teacher’s bedroom dressed as Mother Goose and Ruby Englehart as a fairy queen.

  “My Mama went to Mobridge last week,” Delores whispered to Fernetta. “She brought home a lot of packages and she hid them. I know right where they are—on the top shelf of Mama’s closet.”

  “I got two records already,” chimed in Ruby. “My uncle gave them to me.”

  “Go away,” said Fernetta. “We’re sick of hearing about those old records of yours. Who cares, anyway?” She turned to Delores. “What do you think is in them?”

  “I shook one and it gurgled,” said Delores. “Something runny.”

  Fernetta closed her eyes shrewdly. “Shampoo, maybe? Or a perfume set?”

  “I hope it’s perfume,” said Delores. “But maybe it’s for Lavina and not for me. Mama says I’m not old enough.”

  “She want you to stay a baby?” asked Fernetta.

  Delores peeped through the hole again. “Why, there’s Darrell. Look, Fernetta, he’s talking to Katie Speidel and Norine Schmidt. I bet Uncle Gustaf brought them out from town. They’re my best friends—in town, I mean.”

  Miss Martin sent Peter Hummel out to bring Darrell back of the curtain, but he had no phonograph. “The man wouldn’t lend it without a down-payment,” said Darrell, “and I didn’t have any cash.”

  “The
n you’ll have to sing, children,” said Miss Martin. “‘Jingle Bells’ is the first number.”

  Hans and Fritz Holzhauer, Emil’s older brothers, came to manage the stage curtain. They had graduated from the eighth grade several years before and liked coming back to their old school.

  When everybody was ready, the program began. The curtains were pulled back on both sides, and the children sang “Jingle Bells.” Several recitations followed and then it was time for the play Santa Claus at Home. In the middle of the performance, Hans Holzhauer dashed back to the kitchen and said, “I’m having trouble. Where’s a safety pin?”

  “Go look on Teacher’s pincushion,” whispered Delores.

  The curtain had come unhooked from the wire and was sagging badly. Hans hooked it up with a safety pin and the play went on. At the end, the curtains went shut without a hitch and everybody clapped.

  After the program came the refreshments. The mothers were always willing to bring food to school, and all had contributed. Every one ate candy and nuts, oranges and cookies. Halvah was popular. The Sticklemeyer family brought twelve pounds of the sticky, taffy-like candy, all in one piece like a large loaf. Mrs. Sticklemeyer sliced off generous chunks and passed them out. Every child old enough to reach out a hand was eager for halvah.

  “In the old days we made it ourselves,” said Ruby Englehart’s grandmother. “Now everybody buys halvah at the grocery store.”

  “What’s it made out of, anyhow?” asked Uncle Gustaf Wagner. “Sunflower seeds? It tastes like machine oil to me.”

  The grown-ups laughed.

  “Oh, it’s got crushed sesame in it—that’s a grain from the old country, and corn syrup, sugar, egg whites and vanilla,” explained Grandma Englehart.

  “Whatever it’s got in it, it sure tastes good to me.” Pete Hummel thrust a large bite in his mouth.

  “Oh, not so fast!” cried Grandma Englehart. “That’s not the way to eat halvah. My mother she make me eat it so—first a big bite of bread, then a little bite of halvah, then bread again. That way it goes not so fast. It’s better for the stummick too.”

  The others laughed. The room was filled with warmth and friendliness, with good talk and laughter. The children were shrieking and romping with the school dog Spike. Grandpa Englehart was telling a story:

  “Never vill I forget! When I turned over that first strip of prairie sod, I remembered that no man had ever touched it before, since the day the good Lord had made it. I tell you then I vas a little scared—and that old Indian watching me too. Never vill I forget vat he said—just three words: ‘Wrong side up.’ Then he turned his back and walked away.”

  Nobody said anything. Suddenly the light in a lamp on the window sill flickered. A gust of wind blew in through the broken pane. The lamp flared again and went out. Mrs. Sticklemeyer screamed, and her youngest, little Alvin Calvin, ran to her and began to cry.

  Pete Hummel quickly moved the lamp to a safer place. Then he went out the front door, and in a minute was back.

  “Hey, folks!” he shouted. “We’re gonna have a white Christmas all right. It’s snowing hard.”

  “Snowing—no!” answered the women.

  “Looks like a storm comin’ up,” Pete went on. “Guess we better be gettin’ on home.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s goin’ to be a blizzard,” cried Mrs. Sticklemeyer. “I ain’t got Adolph’s red flannel underwear out yet!”

  The others laughed nervously, getting up from their chairs.

  “You can’t go yet,” said Miss Martin, trying to shout above the din. “Santa Claus still has a little work to do. The children haven’t had their presents. We drew names and…”

  “Santa Claus! Santa Claus!” cried the children. “We want our presents.” “What you got for us, Santa Claus?”

  Emil Holzhauer, wearing his red suit and bearded mask, put his head out from behind the stage curtain and cried: “Hey, wait! Don’t go yet. I ain’t had my show. What you think we made this crepe-paper fireplace for? Don’t you know I got to climb down the chimney and scare the little kids?”

  Just then the curtain wire broke and came down. The dog, Spike, barked and pulled at it, and this time a safety-pin was no help at all.

  “Come on, we gotta go home,” called Pete Hummel again.

  “Go home?” cried the women, startled.

  Mrs. Englehart had a plate of cookies in one hand and a dish of nuts in the other. Mrs. Hummel was passing out fruit, and Mrs. Wagner was cutting another large three-layer chocolate cake. The refreshments were not half over.

  Darrell jumped on a chair in the center of the stage. “Santa Claus hasn’t come down the chimney yet,” he shouted. “Wait a minute, please…”

  But no one was listening.

  Delores ran to her mother. “Don’t let Papa go yet,” she said, with her mouth half full of halvah. “We’ve had lots of snowstorms before and we always got home. I want to see what Jacob Sticklemeyer’s got for me…”

  But Delores could not stop her father. Johannes Wagner said in a loud voice: “There’s a storm coming up. Better get home quick, folks.”

  “Can’t we eat first?” cried the boys.

  “Don’t wait to eat,” said Sam Englehart. “Take your food and go home.”

  “Leave the refreshments for Teacher!” laughed Uncle Gustaf.

  “Oh no!” cried Miss Martin. “I’m going to Aberdeen for the holidays. Everything here will get frozen. Take the food with you. Take everything with you. Maybe some of you will take my canned goods, so it won’t get frozen while I’m gone.”

  Like leaves scattering before a wind, the pleasant gathering broke up. Quickly the children thrust presents into each other’s hands and in Teacher’s. Dishes and food, wraps and small children were collected by the women. Caps, coats, scarves and four-buckle overshoes were hastily put on. Each family took a carton of Miss Martin’s canned goods and everybody started to go, calling: “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!”

  “I want a present from Santa Claus!” wailed little Christy Wagner. Minna wrapped him, screaming, in a blanket and Johannes threw him up over his shoulder.

  “Delores, hurry now, get on your wraps. We’re going,” called Mama Wagner. “Ach, now, what is the matter? What are you crying for?”

  “That crazy old Jacob, he didn’t give me much—just a stationery, without even pictures on it,” sniffed Delores. She opened the small box and showed the note paper to her two girl-friends from town, Katie Speidel and Norine Schmidt, who were waiting for Uncle Gustaf to come.

  Miss Martin came running out into the hall and touched Johannes Wagner lightly on the arm. “Mr. Wagner,” she said. “We’re about out of coal…Do you think you could bring some? Before I get back?”

  “Yah, yah, sure!” replied Johannes. “I see about it right away, quick, tomorrow. I been too busy to take care of it before.”

  “You going to town tonight, Miss Martin?” asked Mrs. Wagner.

  “Yes,” said Miss Martin. “Gustaf said he would take me. I’ll leave everything as it is and throw a few things in a suitcase. I’ll get the fast train to Aberdeen tomorrow.”

  Delores saw the worried look in Miss Martin’s eyes fade away, as Papa promised to bring the coal. The girl tied her scarf tightly under her chin and buttoned her coat. Miss Martin was still standing there. She had her pretty blue silk dress on, the one she wore to church on Sundays, but no sweater, no wrap, and the front hall was cold with the door standing open. Impulsively, Delores ran to her and threw her arms about her.

  “Good night, Miss Martin,” she whispered. “Merry Christmas. I hope you have a nice vacation.” She followed her parents out into the stormy night.

  After the truck engine started, the cab was warm and shielded them from the wind. Only a little snow was falling, but it might get worse in an hour’s time. As they rumbled away, Delores looked back and saw the lights in the schoolhouse. She was glad that Uncle Gustaf would drive Miss Martin safely to town.

  “Will it be
a blizzard, Papa?” asked Delores.

  “What? This?” Papa Johannes laughed. “This is nothing.”

  CHAPTER V

  Christmas Vacation

  “PAPA, YOU CALL THIS NOTHING?”

  It was morning two days later. Delores ran down the steep stairs, through the cold front room and out into the kitchen. She was still in her bathrobe and carried her clothes over her arm. The furnace pipes did not reach to the upstairs bedrooms, and there was no stove, so she was cold. She pointed out the window, where the snow was beating against the house and a high wind was blowing.

  “Jeepers! You call this nothing! I call it a blizzard.”

  “This is what Grandpa all the time talks about,” said Papa, “the kind they had in the old days, back in 1910.”

  Darrell came in from the barn, snow-covered. “Here’s a snowstorm for you, Delores,” he said.

  “I don’t want it,” said the girl. “Keep it for yourself.”

  Mama had a large frying pan full of sausage on the stove. It was sizzling and sputtering, filling the room with an inviting smell. Delores washed and dressed as quickly as she could. “Where’s Christy?’’ she asked.

  “I put him in the boys’ bed downstairs,” said Mama. “He don’t feel so good. He cried all night, and wouldn’t let me sleep.”

  Hearing his name, Christy came out of the bedroom and ran to his mother, crying. She took him up in her arms. Oscar Meyers, the hired man, came in from milking and sat down to eat. Then Darrell came up from the cellar with a coal bucket half full of coal dust.

  “How can I shovel coal when there’s no coal to shovel?” he demanded.

  “I want coal, not that stuff,” said Mama. “That’s only dust. I got to have coal to burn in the kitchen stove.”

  “There’s no coal left,” said Darrell.

  “No coal?” Papa looked dumbfounded. “Why, I trucked a big load all the way home from Fire steel just last month.”