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Ladies attire
1900
Caroline Alberta Canada

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RULES FOR FEMALE TEACHERS 1905

You will not marry during the term of your contract
You must be home between the hours of 8 p.m and 6 a.
Unless attending a school function
You may not keep company with men
You may not loiter downtown
You may not smoke cigarettes, cigars or pipe or chew
Tobacco or snuff.
You may not, under any circumstances, dye your hair.
Your dress must not be any shorter than 2 inches above the knee

3

Teacherage
1930
Caroline Alberta Canada

4

THE TEACHERAGE

Most teachers boarded with a family that lived close to the school.
Others had what we called a "teacherage". A two room house to call home Ardis Branall relates her experience of living in a teacherage in the Caroline Alberta District 1950.

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Teacher
1930
Caroline Alberta Canada

6

MEMORIES OF MY DAYS AT RICH HILL
1939 - 1940

It came as quite a surprise to me - not the letter itself, but the way it was written. It was from the secretary of the school to which I was assigned - Rich Hill. As I read the poorly composed letter I could not help but think, "Good heavens, if this is now the secretary writes, what are the rest of the people going to be like?" He told me that nobody wanted to board the teacher and no respectable woman would live in the house at the school, so where was I to go from here? As I found out later, he was just as upset. Because my last name - Laurendeau - was not familiar to him, he ran around the district telling everyone, "I don't know what kind of a woman she is but she's some kind of a foreigner."
In the letter I was told to go to Bowden, and the wait there at the hotel for someone to come and pick me up. Upon hearing where I was going, the fellows at the hotel said, "Oh, you're going to the country of the Jack Pine savages!" - Some start! - I think, at this point in time, if I could have, I would have turned tails and run; but my contract was signed, so there I sat wondering what on earth I had let myself in for.
As it turned out, they weren't savages, and I had a wonderful year at Rich Hill - but I'm getting ahead of my story.
My driver arrived, and to my city girl eyes, he looked exactly like someone out of a western movie, and whan he spoke it made it seem even moreso - "You Miss Laurendeau? I'm Art Johnson and I'm here to take you out to Rich Hill."
That day I certainly had a lot of new experiences - like riding with someone who I was sure couldn't see and drove like a madman; like crossing the Garrington Ferry with Ernie Meisner at the helm; like feeling buried in a countryside so wooded I thought I'd never see the sky again. I kept asking Art where on earth my future students lived. To which he laconically replied, "Oh, back in the bush."
When I told him what Mr. Kolding had said about no one wanting to board me, he decided we'd better stop at Mr. Schmick's who was on the school board. They were friendly, we had coffee and a chat, but that was it. So what was I to do now? Well, Art said I could come and stay at their place until I could make plans to stay in the little shack at the school. As it turned out I stayed there for the month of September to have time to accumulate a few household needs and to wait for my sister, Theresa, who agreed to come and stay with me. It was a great month. Everyone was so good to me. Loretta Berghaus was working there at the time and proved to be a good friend. I remember my first night proved a bit exciting, though. Just as I was getting ready for bed, I saw a mouse run across the dresser. As I was terrified of the creatures, I went screaming out into the living room. The fellows who were working there for harvest came to my rescue, brandishing brooms, mops, sticks. You would have thought they were after a vicious creature. I think they scared the poor little thing to death as I never saw it again. I ended up laughing myself to sleep as they certainly looked a wild bunch - my jack pine savages, I guess.
The first day of school is one I'll never forget. As each one trotted in he or she said, "Don't be surprised when you see your Grade 9 pupil." But surprised I was; Jackie Berghaus had been after some of his bees that had swarmed and that day his face was a swollen, puffy mess, but he shrugged it off as nothing.
My pupils numbered only a dozen, but there were all grades from one to nine. They were Florence and Edna Schmick; Vernis, Joyce, and Jackie Berghaus; Jackie, Violet, Willie, and Audrey Potter; Margaret and Annie Brownlee; Wayne Olmsted; and Marie Johnston. In my memory we all got along well and enjoyed our year together. I definitely know I had no trouble of any kind. I'll always remember them as a great bunch of kids. Our schoolhouse was large enough and well built. So what more could you ask?
As far as my living quarters went, that was something again. It was an abominably small and poorly constructed shack. We had barely room to move after we squeezed in a double bed, a very small table, two little benches (no room for chairs), a stove, an airtight heater, and a little clothes closet. One of the fellows from Art's came down and put some shelves on the wall above the table, but whoever sat at the end of the table had to be sure to slide out, and then stand up, or suffer a sore head as a consequence. We soon found when winter came how cold it was - so much so that I froze my toe one night when I sat too long without moving. After that, someone came down and banked all around the place.
One episode that happened because of the little benches proved very funny to my sister and me, but the inspector to whom it happened somehow didn't share our mirth. We had lodged a complaint about the poor excuse of a house for the teacher, so he came to see it. Luckily for us (which really helped our tale of woe) my sister was doing laundry. If you can imagine an 8'x10' room with all the above-mentioned furnishings squeezed in, you will be able to envision the small amount of space left with two wash tubs set up in the middle. The inspector stepped in and sat down on one of the little benches. Too late, I tried to warn him that you had to sit dead centre or it would tip. Well he didn't - and it did! As he started to fall he grabbed madly for the nearest thing to him. It happened to be the airtight heater. We rested our case. The school finally did get a little three-room teacherage and I couldn't help but think that the tippy bench played its part in the drama.
Of course, in such an abode, we had mice as boarders. We woke one night to hear a strange sound. When we flashed our light, we saw a cracker running across the cupboard propelled by an invisible mouse. Another time the flashlight picked out a mouse firmly stuck in a platter of toffee we had just made. Needless to say, after that everything went in sealed containers.
Speaking about mice brings another episode to mind. To my horror I saw mice hair in our pail of drinking water at the school. I immediately told the children not to drink of it. Berghaus's brought milk cans of water for us. I sent a sample of water to the Board of Health, and also advised the local school board about it. They called a meeting at which Mr. Kolding told everyone that I was a silly city girl who didn't know you could not get a mouse in a drilled well. Well that set my French temper off and I told him, in no uncertain terms, what I thought. One of the members laughingly said later he had never seen anyone stand up to Old Kolding like that. When the report came back it said our water was contaminated. So they had no choice but to hire Mr. Berghaus and Jackie to clean out the well. I felt vindicated.
I learned to ride horseback that year. Art used to let me have 'Roanie', a lovely fast, but gentle little horse. I really enjoued riding up for the mail at Kevisville. But Art used to like to tell people, "You know I went down to the school one Saturday and there was Miss Laurendeau putting the saddle on backwards. So of course I told her so. But she replied, 'Art, how can you say that? You don't know which way I'm going.'"
I learned a lot of things that year - how to turn out a coal-oil lamp; how to make the right fire in the cook stove; how to feed the airtight heater so it wouldn't take off into orbit with its tin lid pounding a wild tattoo; how to spend the least possible time in the little house of necessity; how to put on events to raise money for our Christmas party; how to tell the difference between pop and other liquids in pop bottles; and last but not least, how to do without a lot of things we used to think absolutely necessary - especially in the food line. In fact I can remember one evening when I came in from school, Theresa said, "I don't know what we can have for supper. There's just nothing in the house." "Well," I said brightly, "What about pancakes?" But no, we didn't have eggs, we didn't have milk. Undaunted I said, "I read somewhere about bachelor pancakes that didn't use either." We tried it. Obviously we weren't bachelors. We simply could not eat them and went to bed hungry. The next day, who should appear but Art Johnson with supplies. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, he proved to be a good neighbour.
As everyone knows who lived in the country in those days, THE most important event of the school year was the Christmas Concert and party.
It all started with obtaining the tree. The young fellows in the district readily volunteered to undertake this pleasant chore. Well, they arrived with the most gorgeous tree I had ever seen. However, it took only a moment for all of us to realize that out in the woods it was splendid, but here, on the steps of the schoolhouse it was enormous. Neither in width or height would it ever go in that little schoolhouse. So regretfully they had to chop and saw off feet from the bottom end, but we still ended up with a wonderful, wonderful tree. Most of the ornaments were made by the children and the chains of white tissue snowmen they had industriously cut out, gave the whole thing a fairy-like appearance. I had also splurged and bought shiny fragile ornaments and we were so enormously proud of our tree.
The big night finally arrived and the schoolhouse was soon sardine-packed with eager neighbors, friends, and parents. Our concert had the usual recitations, songs, dance and wand drill, a short melodrama play. Everyone said it was the best concert thay had ever had. And I, as the producer, stood there with such a glow in my eyes and such warmth in my heart that it didn't even occur to me for one moment that those self-same words must have been spoken to numerous teachers before me and would likely be said to many more to follow.
And now to the most important personage - a well-chosen Santa Claus with his merry Ho Ho and his bag of gifts and candy - made his appearance. All else dimmed in importance. What excitement and happiness filled that hall.
To finish off there was, of course, a dance. How that many people could dance in that small building was a mystery never to be solved. But dance they did with great exuberance - and therein lay the heart-breaking wreckage of our gorgeous tree. With every bump from a frenzied dancer, gorgeous fragile baubles fell from the tree, tinkling into a hundred fragments under the dancers' feet. I think shards of my broken heart were there on the floor, too. I learned a lesson that night - never again would I let beauty cloud my better judgment. But I also felt, that despite that, never again would I experience the sheer joy of that magic night.
(As a very personal aside - part of the magic could have been because that night I met Chris Christensen, whom I later married and have remained so for 57 years at the time of this writing).
One morning I woke up to a beautiful sunny day. (I was alone as Theresa had gone to Calgary), glanced at the clock and panicked - 9:30! My gosh, how come my pupils hadn't called me? I went outdoors and tried the detective work I had seen so many cowboys and farmers do. I started scrutinizing the hoof prints in the yard to see if the children had come and gone again. However, being a real greenhorn, I couldn't tell a thing from my study, so I decided to go back in the shack and make breakfast. Sitting there having my coffee, I glanced at the clock and saw with a start it was only 6:15. I had, in my shock when I awoke to bright sunshine, misread 15 to 6 as 9:30. I never did tell this story to any of my students. After all, teachers are supposed to be smart, aren't they?
During the winter months there were numerous activities such as card parties, skating, sleigh rides, tobogganing, and, of course, all the different dances, including box socials, pie socials, shoe socials - you name it, they had it. Going back for a moment to the card parties, we used to take turns providing lunch. Jack Shepherd said he always knew when the city girls made the lunch because when they served date loaf or nut loaf, etc. they would put the butter on and then scrape most of it off again.
Thinking back to the dances, we experienced one hilarious episode. We were all madly dancing a wild sugar bowl square dance called by Ernie Knott. All of a sudden he was down on the floor scampering around between our legs. My sister, Theresa, was highly indignant as she was convinced he was being fresh. I was laughing so hard I had a hard time telling her that that wasn't the case, but that he was trying to find his false teeth that flew out when he called with extra vigour. He found them, clamped them back in, and went right on calling.
In summer we had sports days and picnics. They were great and I'll always remember the wonderful picnic meals that finished off with homemade ice cream - mmm mmmm - delicious!
The other thing we sure had in summer were mosquitoes in abundance. Mind you if you thought about it, it wasn't too bad because there were only two kinds - the teeny-weeny ones that came right through the screen door, and the big ones that pushed it open. No, but seriously, the mosquitoes came into our poor little shack in droves. The constant hum was what drove a person wild. I kept wondering how many millions it took to make such a sound. I had been bitten by a few but the din was something new to me. We simply could not sleep. That made it very difficult for me to be fresh for the next day's teaching. Neil and Nellie Olmsted took pity on us. We spent the month of June living with them. We will always remember them for their kindness and thoughtfulness.
And so ends the saga of a gal from Calgary who taught at Rich Hill in 1939-40.

7

RICH HILL TEACHERAGE - by Teacher, Ardis Branall

I have no idea what my expectations were concerning the teacherage which was to provide my accommodation as of May, 1950. Teacherages were not a new concept to me. My Mother was a teacher, and we had lived in a teacherage near Carbon, Alberta. She also lived in one at Red Raven school (Kevisville) and there also was one at New Raven school, but this teacherage was to be "MINE"!
The teacherage was two rooms. The door opened directly into the kitchen area. There were two windows; a large two-paned one to the West, and a smaller one on the East. To the left of the doorway was a smaller, freestanding, painted cupboard which possibly would have been what we call a hoosier. But it had no fittings such as flour bins, etc. It contained no dishes, but the drawer had a few odd pieces of old silverware. Next to the cupboard was the small window, underneath which was a wood box. On top of the box was where the water pail and hand basin were situated. On the South wall stood the cookstove - wood-fired of course. To the right of it was an airtight heater; then the door to the bedroom. On the West wall, next to the window was a very small table, hardly for two, and two chairs. That left a whole empty corner unfurnished! Later, I got a small library table to put there to hold a radio, magazines, and some schoolwork. The kitchen's 10'x12' floor did have linoleum covering it.
The bedroom was approximately 8'x12'. The head of the iron bedstead was on the East wall. At its foot was a chest of drawers, on the South wall. The window, a twin to the kitchen one, was in the West wall. I just added red-trimmed plastic cottage-style curtains to the windows.
The walls were covered with what we called 'V-joint' boards, about 2-1/2" to 3" wide with a 'V' where they joined the next board. There was no insulation and the place was COLD. Outside the teacherage, to the West side was a precisely-stacked woodpile. Even
large quantities of wood in the stoves didn't keep the tea kettle from freezing on the top by morning. The airtight heater would glow fire red; its lid rattle and bang loudly, up and down. It's a miracle there was no emergency fire. I finally appealed to a school board member at the time, "Couldn't we possibly have some coal so I could bank the fires in both the teacherage and the school overnight?". So a load of LUMP coal subsequently arrived and was put in a stall in the barn. That helped. Now I chopped both wood and coal.
The board member also agreed to have the teacherage completely lined with tentest, a fiber board about 1/2-3/4" thick with insulating qualities. The two-man work crew arrived at 3:30 one wintery Friday afternoon to start the job, as I left for the weekend. Anxiously, I returned on Sunday to see the results of the project, when suddenly it dawned on me: No way could the job have been completed on Friday. The men would not have returned to Rocky Mountain House on Friday night, so that meant they would have slept IN MY BED, and I had no clean bedding. I dashed into the teacherage -- Sure enough -- they had made themselves at home. I yanked the sheets off the bed. The bedspread became a lower sheet; the blankets were thrown over me. Not only that, all the dishes and kettles were left dirty. The coffee pot had been emptied right on the edge of the doorstep! Choking back my ire, I proceeded to clean up and survey the rest of the project. The teacherage was definitely warmer after that.
Of course there was no plumbing, except at the end of a path - no water, (just in the well) and no power. The lights were either a high test gas lamp or kerosene lamp. The radio ran on expensive batteries which I tried to conserve. By today's standards, the accommodation seems Spartan. It wasn't. We were used to firing wood stoves, packing wood and water and banking furnaces with coal. It was just home on a smaller scale.
At Rich Hill I used a teaspoon from the cabinet drawer to measure coffee into the coffee pot. When I left, the spoon was still in the coffee canister. Now, fifty-two years and thousands of cups of coffee later, that same spoon is still in my coffee canister - an unintentional keepsake of 2 years and 2 months at the Rich Hill teacherage.
My sister still, to this very day, considers it truly amazing that I would stay in the teacherage all by myself with no outside lights, not even a flashlight, and it was a mile and a half to the closest neighbor. Sometimes I visited them, walking there and back in total darkness. It never occurred to me to be nervous - about what? The greatest annoyance was the 4 a.m. drumming of the ruffed grouse which would awaken me every spring morning.
Among the souvenirs I have is a little cedar chest (real cedar) about 5"x3"x10" that held stationery. Still taped inside the lid is a small Christmas gift card which reads, "To Miss Norre, Merry Christmas from Gertrude". The box now holds some old snapshots. I also have a lace tablecloth (well worn) and some dresser set bottles from Rich Hill students

CORRESPONDENCE IN THE SCHOOLS 1940'S

In the 1940's there was a large number of schools in Alberta without teachers. Some of this was a direct cause of World War II. High school graduates could apply for the position. Requirements for the position was a high school diploma and an interview with the school board.

WOOLER:

When I came to supervise the pupils taking their school year by correspondence,I was not older than some of my students and pretty much without a clue. Lovable kids and their supportive parents made the experience not only memorable but enjoyable for me.

8

School class
1940
Caroline Alberta Canada

9

A ONE-ROOM COUNTRY SCHOOL

As the teacher stood on the front steps ringing the hand bell, the students lined up and filed inside - girls through the left side cloak room; boys to the right - leaving coats and lunches (often in syrup pails); then on to their desks. A row of tall windows on the west let in the warm afternoon sun and only barely met the challenge of cold winter winds. Beyond those windows, low, treed sand hills looked almost mountainous to a little child. The teacher's desk was usually in front, the blackboards on the cloak room wall so that revered person could keep an eye on all the students busily at work, or perhaps passing notes if the steely gaze wandered. Blackboards were also a feature of the east wall, with pull-down roller maps that didn't really relate to anything we knew about geography. Who could see any resemblance to our dirt roads, uphill and down across the creek, trees here, fields and farmsteads there, in the pink, green, and orange of those maps marked with black lines and dots? And all those red parts belonged to the British Empire, we were told. Beginning students spent a lot of time at those blackboards, tracing over the perfect letters made there as patterns by the teacher, learning to recognize our letters and how to shape them. A big barrel-type stove at the back of the room created a patch of warmth in an attempt to protect us from the cold of the windows and to keep the ink from freezing.
In the 1930's we had ink in a large bottle to refill our small inkwells; powder in a box to mix with water into a pablum-like glue; scribblers; possibly pencils; and text books which were used by successive grades until they fell apart. All were provided by trhe school board. We brought our own straight pens and nibs. Fountain pens and mechanical pencils were novelties to most of us.
There was a well in the school yard but the water tasted bad. So, it was used for drowning gophers in summer and flooding the skating rink in winter. Our drinking water was carried from the creek a short distance north of the school. Because water wasn't abundant, washing wasn't given a high priority except in cases of injury such as a nose bleed or illness, like stomach upset, but each pupil had a drinking cup to pour water into from the dipper or folded paper cups could be made which lent another distinct flavour to the water.
The two outhouses behind the school had many a fast visit on winter days and many more lingering ones when days were warm. Also, places of shared secrets, the boys were sometimes caught smoking in their shanty.
There was also a little barn to provide horses with some protection from the elements. A swing and teeter totter provided fun, and an element of danger. One student sustained a broken arm in a fall from the swing.
The school term began in March at the height of spring run-off, so there are memories of wading through lots of water to get home from school, and in the morning, walking on crackling ice after a frosty night. In the spring of 1921 or 1922 spruce trees were planted from the front of the school to the entrance gate. Each child had a little tree to plant and care for. Today these venerable green giants bear testimony to the care of those long ago students and their teacher.
In latter years the surprise visit from the School Inspector was remembered as a time of terror for the students, though he rarely even spoke to us. He was there to observe the teacher at work, evaluate and advise her. We all remember standing and saying, "Good Morning Mr. ___________" then sitting and working quietly and diligently, on our best behaviour.
The grade 1 and 2 children were often released a half hour earlier than the older students to play at the end of the school day. We remember one group who went through the fence to the western hills, and were soundly punished for leaving the school yard.
Even though there were no classes from December to March, winter seemed to start earlier and be colder then. I remember a day when my mother thought it too cold for her little girl to ride horseback to school, but my dad sat me on faithful Queen's back, wrapped me in a horse blanket to my chin, and off I was sent to arrive safely at school where the older students took charge and cared for the younger ones.
By the 1930's the school term had been changed to ten months, from September to June, so winter memories are walking to school on snowdrifts beautifully sculpted by the wind, cold hands and feet, noses wrapped in heavy scarves. Sometimes a group of us caught a ride home in a box sleigh behind a plodding white horse. Inside of the sleigh, warm and ready for fun after the long winter school day, we'd begin tousling and laughing, and the horse ignored by driver and passengers, would wander off into the ditch, quite on purpose I'm sure, and dump us into the snow. How fortunate we thought these students were to have sleigh and buggy transportation dimly realizing the reason being the long distance they had to travel.
in 1929, teachers took a few months training at "Normal School" to prepare them to teach. The 'strap' was the commonform of discipline at this time for serious bad behaviour, and we remember being terrified by this item kept in the teacher's desk drawer. When it was used, all the students watched in quiet horror and thoughtfulness to have escaped punishment - and pity for the miscreant who was suffering the strap on his hands.
In 1934 a handsome young bachelor came to teach at our school, and was the cause of a few school girl crushes among his students. He was to stay until 1943, and was liked and respected by the pupils. He kept good order in the classroom and had a good aim with a piece of chalk if he saw someone talking or teasing! He married during this time and lived in a tiny two-room teacherage in the school yard. He formed fast friendships in the district.
The teacher was responsible for having the students plant the rest of the evergreens still growing in the old school yard. The trees were west of the school and hauled by students. Our school won a bat and ball more than one year for having the best decorated schoolyard in the district.
In 1939 the students could make a little money killing gophers and bringing their tails, collecting crow and magpie feet and eggs, and hawk and eagle feet (much more difficult to collect). These unfortunate creatures were considered vermin of the worst kind, and students were enlisted to help control their numbers. The teacher kept a record of the unsavory collection, and the government paid a few pennies for each to the collectors. If a gopher dared burrow into the schoolyard, his days were definitely numbered. A bucket brigade from the well filled his hole with water, often bringing him gasping to the surface to meet his end, and another tail was added to the tally!
Through the years, an older student could also make a little money by doing janotor work at the school, sweeping, cleaning blackboards, bringing in wood and lighting the fire early so the school would be warmed by the time the rest of the students arrived. Sometimes these chores were included in the teacher's duties, all for the salary of $68 per month, and of course no pay for the two months of summer holidays.
During the 1930's and 1940's there was a box social and dance after harvest. This was a time of fun and source of money to cover the cost of crepepaper for decorations, and costumes for the Christmas concert, and a gift and candy bag under the tree for each child. The Eaton's catalogue was searched by each student, and sometimes chosen to ask Santa for, within our price limit depending on the proceeds from the box social.
The Christmas concert was held at the hall, necessitating at least one 'dress rehearsal' at the hall. We have memories of the exciting ride to the hall in a sleigh behind the team of horses, then marching smartly onstage to the tune of a spirited march played on the old piano, to sing the opening song.
Drills were popular entertainment at the concert with students in costume, often of crepe paper, made by the teacher and district mothers; marching about, hopefully in time to the teacher's accompaniment, in formations choreographed by the long suffering teacher. The audience seemed to enjoy drills - teachers and students did not. Recitations, memorized plays displaying varying acting talents and stage fright, practiced and practiced - a few brave students attempting a song, then finally the concert was over and Santa came ho ho ho-ing and handing out presents and candy bags. Candy and oranges weren't plentiful during wartime, but there was always some for each child, and little gifts for the teacher. What happy occasions these were - and no more school until after New Years!
Inevitably change crept on. With fewer children in the district and bussing to larger schools available, the need for the little school ceased. The building has been lovingly converted and maintained as a community center by the district residents, many of them former students, and still serves the community of which it has been an important part for 90 years.
Submitted by Students,Hazel (Neal) Holoboff and other students.

10

That Old Gang of Mine.
1940
Caroline Alberta Canada

11

Time moves on. Memories of the past remind us that nothing endures in the world. Nearly all the ones who went to these schools are gone.Very few are left.
The little one room country schools slowly closed their doors and the children were bussed to Caroline a central school in the Village of Caroline Alberta.
Memories of these happy times will last forever