I have not quite reached that age of which it is said that one’s memory like their eyesight is better for long distances, consequently, try as hard I may, I cannot recall clearly very many of the early teachers of the old white school.

The clouds shutting out my early childhood, are broken here and there and some incident sometimes trivial in nature stands clear my memory. When I was a very small boy, I distinctly remember going into the house and being taken upon the knee of a strange gent1eman. I was told that he was a school teacher and that his name was Mr. Hutton. I have never seen Mr. Hutton, to my knowledge, from that day to this, but I have always remembered him as the first school teacher of my acquaintance.

My first term of school was in the old red schoolhouse and Mrs. Coburn was the teacher. The building was in a dilapidated condition. The wooden seats were cut by jack-knives and near the seat which was occupied by George Bancroft and myself, side of the room was broken thru near the floor.

I do not remember of learning anything that first term except I learned to love my teacher, for Mrs. Coburn possessed the faculty of winning the affections of all the little ones in and we were never so happy as when we were allowed to stand her side and hold her watch or hand.

My next distinct impression is of standing by the old red school and looking with awe and admiration at the nearly completed new school building just south of the old one. It was to me a magnificent structure and as I was being assisted by some larger boy, up through one of the side windows so as to get a view of the interior, I felt proud to think that I was going to school in the new school

Thirty-seven years have passed and the glamour of childhood has long ago been dispelled by the cold realities of life, but I can still say that I am proud that I did attend the old white school at Amherst.

The first teacher I believe, in the white schoolhouse was Hosmer Felch. I have but two impressions of Mr. Felch as a teacher. One was that as he boarded at home, six miles away, he was often very late in opening school and the other that he made it extremely lively for the unruly pupils after he got there. I can still see one of the Boomer boys as he was jerked over the seat onto the floor and the dried prunes which he had in his pockets scattered over the floor.

Miss Bliss is remembered by the delightful time we had at a picnic held in the little grove now owned by Mr. Heath, and Dr. Atwell’s term of school is recalled by the big dog, which like the traditional little lamb, “followed him to school one day and made the children laugh and play.” One teacher of this early period is re-called by the fact that extremely large bustles were the rage at that time. I believe I received my first conception of numbers by counting the hair pins that found lodgment on that bustle from day to day, and not knowing anything of the cruel mandates of fashion, I thought it was an ingenious contrivance invented for that purpose and also might be a good seat for a little boy to take a ride.

I remember Mrs. Orcutt’s (now Mrs. Dr. Guernsey) term of school by the beautiful prizes she offered for punctuality and well learned lessons, and Mrs. Teal Mason’s pleasant smile and cheerful manner will never be forgotten.

For a few years the lower department only was used, as the second story remained unfinished. I believe Miss Hepsa Bean was the first teacher in the upper department and was followed by Mr. Havenor. Miss Thompson taught in the lower department about this time.

Most of the boys will remember the term of school taught by the Rev. Orcutt. The upper room at this time contained a few turbulent spirits who thought the mild mannered, soft spoken old gentleman was an easy mark. His earnest pleadings were of no avail and at last an open breach of discipline occurred. You who were present still remember what took place. The insurrectionists soon found that under the soft manner was an inflexible will and the apparently feeble frame had the muscle to back it up. The ringleaders received the thrashing of their lives and were glad to ask the old man’s pardon and receive his forgiveness. Mr. Orcutt won the respect and affection of all his pupils, and although his term of service was short, I know that he left a lasting, beneficial effect upon the lives of all those who came under the influence of his beautiful character.

Miss Blodgett agreed to meet with us during this reunion only after receiving the solemn promise of the officers of this association that no mention of the time that elapsed since she taught in the old white school house would be allowed. And as she has apparently found the magic spring of perpetual youth for which Ponce de Leon searched so long, the secret is safe, unless the gray hairs of some of her pupils give it away.

The period of Miss Blodgett’s labors in our schools was one of transition. The old methods of teaching were becoming obsolete and the smaller schools of the state were just beginning to feel the influence of our normal schools and their new methods. Before this time our mental training had largely been allowed to follow the lines of least resistance. Those studies we liked, we spent most of our time upon, while those we did not like were either cut out or neglected. 

This fact was brought strongly to my notice upon entering school at the beginning of the winter quarter under Miss Blodgett. I detested grammar and consequently had neglected the study. I found my class, mostly girls, well advanced in Green’s Grammar and on finely. I remember they were diagramming sentences according to a new method. It looked beautiful but it was all-Greek to me I thought grammar was all right for girls, but boys would never have any use for it, so I prepared to cut it out. Teacher wouldn’t let me and I was made to understand that in order to have a symmetrical foundation for an education, one must work the hardest on the weakest places. I plunged in and by the help of my teacher and my good girl friends, who slyly passed me their slates so I could copy my lessons, I managed to keep my head above water. I did a lot of floundering in that grammar class - never touched bottom once and I have a suspicion that my old teachers will think I never will.

In our Ignorance we thought we all about our letters from A to Z Miss Blodgett soon showed us that we did not know the first principles of the alphabet. She started a new-fangled study called “orthoepy” and then our troubles began. The letter A we found could be pronounced in 8 or 10 different ways. We wrestled with the vowels and consonants, linguals and sublinguals and diphthongs. We had to describe the exact position of the tongue and other organs of articulation in framing the letter R, so that we could pronounce it distinctly and thus proclaim to the world, and the New England states in particular, that we came from the Great Middle West.

It was a hard job, but we won out and when I came up for examination to enter the Oshkosh Normal, those very same questions were fired at me by Pres. Alban, and if it had not been for that training in orthoepy under Miss Blodgett, I would have been obliged to have taken a course in the preparatory before entering that school. So I had reason for thanking my teacher for knowing what was good for me and holding me to the work against my inclination.

I wonder if any of the “A” Geography class remember the long list of unpronounceable Spanish names of states and cities in Mexico? I don’t believe Cortez worked half as hard in conquering that country as we did in learning to spell and trying to pronounce those names. Occasionally I see one of these words in the daily paper and it seems like meeting an old friend. I thought it was time wasted, but years afterwards when I was compelled to memorize long Latin anatomical names in a medical college, I felt very grateful to Miss Blodgett and appreciated the training in memory I had received in her “A” Geography. Miss Blodgett put in five years of faithful and consistent work. School advanced under her instruction and I am glad to say it has been constantly on the upgrade ever since.

Nearly all the pupils under Geo. Welton considered him an ideal male teacher, and I for one have never changed my mind. He was strict in discipline without being overbearing and, tyrannical. He was sympathetic; so we all felt free to carry our burdens to him. He was one of the boys outside of school, without losing his dignity and consequently our respect. He taught nothing but the common school branches, but what George taught he taught well. He planted the seed of ambition in the minds of his pupils and pointed the way upward to a higher education, and I am glad to say that many of his pupils profited thereby. It was during George’s last term that some of his larger boys showed a leaning toward literature as a profession. They at first, like Dickens’ Silas Wegg dropped into poetry, but their Pegasius must have been of the bronco breed for they were soon unhorsed.

After this failure in poetry they developed a keen rivalry to see which could write the best “Dime Novel.” As my seat happened directly in front of them, I was chosen referee, or literary critic and each chapter of the blood curdling romances was passed to me for my verdict. Everything progressed finely, the novels were nearly completed, when one day teacher happened to stroll that way un-noticed while they were in the throes of composing a thrilling climax. You can imagine the climax and the two great literary lights were suddenly extinguished forever, for one is a promising life insurance agent and the other, assistant cashier in a bank.

The last term of school I attended in the white schoolhouse was taught by Herman Suhs. He was a good teacher, well pre-pared and thorough and those who wished to learn made good progress. It was during this winter that the school board introduced a new system of heating the rooms. For some unknown reason the furnace worked backwards expelling all the heat out of doors and drawing the cold weather inside. We had to sit clothed in overcoats, overshoes, caps and mittens, our breath congealed and we shook as one with the ague. The only warm one in the room was the teacher. He was terribly hot at A. J. Smith. Outside the schoolhouse it was different. The neighbors began talking about an early spring and were often seen out looking for robins. That was the way I graduated from the Old White School House. I was literally frozen out.

The terms of school conducted by Mr. Owen and Mr. McKee, I know very little about except that the school under their instruction reached such a state of advancement that a free high school was demanded and a new and more commodious school building was necessary. The teachers, who taught in the lower room after I left, are remembered better by the younger alumni than those I have mentioned. I know them all well, but as teachers knew very little about them.

My sister, Dora, taught for many years in this department and I know she still lives in the memory of the boys and girls who attended her school. Mrs. Hummiston, I hear spoken of frequently by those who knew and loved her as a teacher. Mrs. Anna Carter Fleming is still with us as well as all of those who taught in the annex which was built later.

The alumni of the old Red and White Schools should be grateful to the school boards for securing the services of the class of teachers they engaged. For the time in which they served they were the best that could be procured. They were nearly all the product of the country school and were denied the advantages of the state normal and county training schools.

The library of the school consisted of a dilapidated Webster’s dictionary, no supplementary reading, no historical reference books, nothing but the few text books in the hands of the pupils. It is a wonder that they accomplished as much as they did.

I have no recollection of a single teacher but that did his or her very best. Give them some of the roses now and don’t wait until they are dead. We owe them a debt of thanks for what they did for us and whenever you meet any of your old teachers don’t be backward about taking them by the hand and telling them of your appreciation for the help they gave you in the past.

Where are the boys and girls who went from their Alma Mater with high hopes, buoyant steps and faces turned toward the future? A few are here tonight, many are dead, but a greater number are out in the world fighting life’s battles. They may be found within the borders of a majority of the states in this Grand Union. Perhaps none of them will ever be great - as men call greatness - but if they are true men and women - loyal American citizens, who are willing to squarely meet the many economic questions of the day which confront them and aid in their solution - then their old school teachers will not have labored in vain and the Red and White Schools of Amherst will have accomplished that for which they were built.