Ihr liewe Leit:
Mer mache heit weider mit Gedichde vun eeschtubbiche Schulheiser:
Der Brunner hot aa en achteckichi Schulhasu ghatt – eegentlich net
so raar ass mer ‘s aerscht denke deet! Er schreibt:
Acht Ecke hot mei Schulhaus ghatt,
Un rund wie en Fruchtschtock;
Es waar net faensi, schee, noch glatt,
Un uff em Dach ken Glock.
Doch hen mer ebbes drin gelannt,
Der Meeschder aa oftmols verzannt.
Die Desks, die waare an der Wand,
Rings in der Schulschtubb rum;
Ken Ruckboard waar an kennre Bank;
Sell waar erschrecklich dumm.
Uff yeder Seit am Offe, datt,
Waar’n Schwaarde Bank, gans greislich hatt.
Mannshoch vum aerschde Floor, do waar
Der zwett Floor owwedruff;
En Schlupploch, fer and Offerohr,
Do iss mer darrich nuff.
Der Meeschder hot aa, dann un wann,
En Schuler nuff, en hald Schtunn lang.
Mer misse nau zerrick zum Shuey seim Gedicht. Er nemmt en paar
Vaerscht fer uns zu saage was mer um seinre Schul sehne kann. Sei Schulhaus
hot en Bortsch, un en Bank schteht druf. Un gans neegscht beim Schulhaus iss
en Bump, Backhaus, un en Schtall.
Fer was? Les mol was er uns fer en Antwatt gebt:
Du froogscht villeicht, “Was duhn der Schtall,
Des Backhaus, Bump un Bortsch un all?”
Des Haus iss doppel – sehnscht du net?
Der Tietscher wohnt datt, wie er sett.
Er ziegt die Glock un halt die Schul,
Singt vor in der Karrich – sell waar die Ruul.
Er hot do Karricheglaawe glehrt,
Un yedes hot ihn hoch ge-ehrt.
Mer mache heit Schluss mit zwee Vaerscht vum Ralph Funk sei Gedicht
“Mir hen Deel Gelannt”:
Ich denk mir hen doch deel gelannt
Datt in der Greizweg Schul –
Zu gritzle, figgere, un so was,
Sowohl die “Golden Rule”.
Mir brauche uns net scheme heit,
Un sin mir net es gscheitscht;
Der Kall wu meent er alles wisst
Kummt aa net immer ‘s weitscht.
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
We are continuing today with poems about the one-room school
houses:
Brunner also went to an eight-cornered school house – actually not
as rare as one might as first think! He writes:
Eight corners had my school house,
And round as a stack a grain;
It wasn’t fancy, nice, nor smooth,
And on the roof no bell.
But we learned something in it,
The master we also often make angry.
The desks, they were at the wall,
Ringed round the school room;
No backboards were on any on the benches;
That was terribly stupid.
On each side on the stove, there,
Was a plank bench, terribly hard.
Man-high from the first floor, there was
The second floor above;
A crawl-hole, to get at the stovepipe;
One went up through it.
The master also, now and then,
Put up a pupil, for a half hour.
| We have to get back
now to Shuey’s poem. He takes a few verses to tell us what one can see
around his school. His school house had a porch and a bench is on it. And
very close to the school house is a pump, a back house, and a stall.
For what? Read once what he gives us for and answer:
You ask perhaps, “What are the stall,
The bake house, pump and porch and all for?”
The house is double – don’t you see?
The teacher lives there, the way he should.
He pulls the bell and keeps the school,
Leads the singing in the church – that was the rule.
He taught religion (church beliefs),
And everyone held him in high regard.
We will finish today with two stanzas from Ralph Funk’s poem “We
Learned Something”:
But I think we learned something anyhow
There in the crossroad school –
Scribbling, figuring, and such,
As well as the “Golden Rule”
We don’t have to be ashamed today,
Even if we are not the smartest;
The fellow who thinks he knows everything
Doesn’t always get the farthest.
Take care,
The Old Professor
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