[Sidenote: Beginning School]
“John is six years old today and I’m going to start him off to school.
I’ll be thankful enough to be rid of his noise for a few hours in the
day and to get a chance to do my work in peace. John is _such_ a noisy
boy! He nearly drives me distracted sometimes!”
It was Mrs. Basset who was speaking. John continued ‘playing sojer’ long
enough to give his drum an extra loud banging, as he remarked, “I ain’t
going to school. I’m a sojer. Sojers don’t have to go to school.”
The truth was that John, having no older brothers and sisters to
instruct him in such matters, had very little idea what sort of a place
school was, but from the irritation expressed by his mother’s words, and
the slight whine in her voice, he not unnaturally drew the inference
that school was a place where mothers sent children to get rid of them
and to punish them. Naturally this impression did not cause John to be
kindly disposed toward his new environment. He left home crying, was
still crying when he reached the school room, and sulked and wept by
turns throughout the day, remembering meanwhile his beloved drum and the
disillusionment of “sojer” life. “Time softened somewhat the poignancy
of his grief” at having to go to school but he never got over the
feeling that school was a place of punishment—a feeling that grew
stronger rather than weaker as days went by, because of various and
frequent punishments, which his teacher felt bound to administer as a
result of his indifference and in order to keep him up to grade. John
never learned to like school.