Glenside Elementary School lies just above and to the left of the pin in the graphic above. Getting to school from our home (located just above the B in Ave. B) was easy. The Warren St. Bypass shown above did not exist; in those days it was just a broad street with little traffic. We would walk up Ave. D all the the way to Warren St. and then cross the large grassy expanse to the school. Often, when going home, we would walk down Lackawana St. to Warren St. and then on to Ave. D.
I attended some weeks, how many I do not know, in kindergarten and passed to first grade. Students were required to enter through the door at the extreme right end of the building. My first grade classroom was at the other end on the left. Across from the classroom, in the hallway, were two or more tables set up most every morning with penny candy for sale. I particularly like Mary Jane and root beer barrels.
I do not remember any of my teachers (I attended kindergarten and grades 1-3 there) but I do remember the principal. Her name was Mrs. Weatherhold. She was always concerned about my chronically high temperature, which ran a consistent 101 degrees Fahrenheit, and the deeply colored bags under my eyes. She pressured my parents into having me hospitalized at least two times for two weeks to determine what was the cause. The conclusion was that I suffered from chronic sinusitis. I still do.
I like school and did very well there. I was in advanced reading because my mother had taught me to read even before entering kindergarten. I could read right side up as well as upside down. I can still do that. We read from the Dick and Jane series. I know some modern educators who believe in teaching phonics deride these books and blame them for the poor reading and language skills of today. Perhaps they are right. All I know is they did not have that effect on me.
Every morning class started with us standing and saluting the flag while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. That was followed by a reading from the Bible. When a teacher or the principal entered the classroom, all of us students would immediately stand (as a sign of respect and commanded by God; You shall rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of the old man, and fear your God: I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:32).
Even though World War II had ended a few years earlier, we still bought war bonds. Each week we would buy stamps for ten cents a piece and paste them in a booklet. When the book was finished it could be redeemed at the Post Office for a $25.00 war bond. My mother still had mine up to shortly before her death in 2000.
One brutally cold winter’s day I had gone to school and was waiting for the call to line up to enter the school. I was staying in the lee of the building and wasn’t far from the wall. Some of the older students were running and sliding on the ice to see how far they could go. One student put a little to much effort into his slide and could not stop. He slammed into me and I slammed into the wall, face first. I came away a bloody mess. I had impacted with such force that the base of my nose was separated from the top of my teeth. I had a hole so large I could put my finger into my mouth through it. My nose was also broken. I was sent home, down Schuykill Avenue, without escort or having had a medical examination, bleeding profusely all the way. We had no medical insurance (if it even existed) so my dad did his best to patch me up. I suffered from unexpected and uncontrollable nose bleeds until many years later when the Navy performed a septoplasty on me.
One other unpleasantness associated with this school needs to be mentioned. World War II was still fresh in the memories of our parents and now we were fighting the Communist threat, which would soon result in the Korean War. We were given a cartoon book showing a turtle wearing a helmet take the requisite action in case of an atomic bomb attack. I had no idea of what an atomic bomb was and the description of what it could do scared the jelly beans out of me. I was terrified and endured many nightmares on account of it. At school we practiced air raid drills. Heads down, arms covering the neck, we knelt in the darkened hallway awaiting the wrath of the Russians. Nothing ever happened and eventually why we had the drills passed into the deep recesses of my mind where they would no longer constantly bother me.







