Jordan Rodriguez

Rough Draft Profile Essay

GSW 1100

15 September 2015

A Day in the Life Around noon on a hot summer day I yawned my way out of my comfy bed. I slowly walked down the stairs, watched cartoons while eating cocoa puffs. Later, my sisters and I went outside to play four square with the neighbors. After they beat me several times, I ran down the street with embarrassment. While running down the scorching hot pavement, I saw my friend Jacob playing whiffle ball outside with his friendly father. I asked him to talk a walk with me. We complained about our typical sixth grade problems. Jacob complained about his xbox breaking, while I complained about school plus girls. I really didn’t have any problems with girls besides wanting them all to myself. I never understood the point of school. I knew I had to get good grades, go to highschool, go to college, get a good job, and make a lot of money. I had to pay attention in class. It was imbedded into my head that soon became a natural instinct. Waking up at 7am to my dad screaming for me to brush my smelly teeth, wash my dirty body, and dress my naked body. Hearing people talk that early angered me. I never liked walking around my fifteenth century school. The walls peeled with gray paint. The dark red and off white tiles made me feel ill. The halls smelled like raunchy old ladies bathing in baby powder. Sitting in a deck for several hours developed into boredom for me. Talking about my hatred for school turned my face more red than an apple. My friend Jacob shockingly said he felt the same way. It was a prison and we were the prisoners of this big scam called ‘school.’ Angrily complaining with hints of screaming, an old lady named Grace down the street yelled our names. She offered us her mouth watering double chocolate chip cookies. We scuffed them down faster than a race horse. After we stuffed our faces she asked us what we had been bickering about. I told her my feelings about school, how much I hated my school, the old look, the gross floors, and the non stop talking teachers. Grace went silent. After five minutes of silence I asked her what’s wrong. Grace shook her head side to side. She asked us if we had time to stay for awhile. She asked to tell us a story about school in the late nineteenth century. She had been in school around then, we both curiously said yes. So, she crossed her legs, sipped her tea, and began to talk. It was the spring of 1880. I lived in Norwalk Township, Huron County, Ohio. It was 5am when I woke up to help momma with chores before the sun settled. Father had been sleeping from his shift at Wheeling & Lake Erie Railroad and cleaning up the farm. I only had two dresses to wear. We didn’t have much money. My father insisted I helped with the farm until my brother was old enough. I milked the cows and fed the pigs. I always got back to a food filled table of oats, sausage, bacon, eggs, and the milk I brought back from the farm. After cleaning up the kitchen I grabbed my lunch pail to walk to school. My school was called ‘The Little Red House.’ It was built in 1875. It held eight different grades. The walk took a hefty 45 minutes to an hour. Classes started at 8am, if late we would get the paddle. I could hear the bell ringing from a mile away. My teacher rang the bell to remind us. The boys and girls walked on separate sides or girls upfront and boys in the back, segregated from each other. Everyday the teacher would fill up the lamps plus clean the chimney. Miss. Apple always had a bucket of water and coals in her hand for the day’s session. When someone acted up she would put them in the corner with a Dunce hat on while they sit on a small stool. She would always check the outhouse to make sure it’s clean for us. There were about eight different grades in our class with six to forty classmates. The heavenly smell of the burning wood would take over my nostrils as soon as I walked in the tiny red brick school house. The black slate went around the whole school, light yellow paint above it, and wood panels beneath the slate. We had multiple windows covered with dark green shades that the teacher pulled down to keep us from daydreaming. Miss. Apple started off class by having us reciting the Lord’s prayer. After, we said the Pledge of Allegiance. Then she passed out the slate boards. We used them to write our problems out and practice writing. We had hard barked straight seated wood chairs that made everybody's bottom sore. We had cool color blocks to play with. The whirly gig was my favorite toy to play with at the time. I made it with a string and a button. I would spin the button in the middle of the string for hours. We always went outside to play. The girls and boys played in different areas during recess. Miss. Apple was my favorite teacher but told me it was hard because she felt there were too many rules. She couldn’t marry the man she loved, couldn’t smoke cigarettes when stressed, no feminist movements, and couldn’t drive an automobile unless she was with her father! The only rule us students had was help bring the coal in during the winter and be silent. We also had to bring the well water in. School was easy, but the teachers had it rough, after five years they got a twenty five cent raise once a week. As Grace finally wrapped up her story, I felt as if I lived in her time for a short while. I never realized how different life was back in the day. The story was so appealing to me, I decided to visit the building at BGSU. It is located right next to Carillon. It’s a beautiful dark red small brick building with dark green grass. Right when I walked up the the from it had two sides to walk in. The bell on the top looked as if it should belong on a cathedral. The building, built in 1875, was originally located in Huron County. After 100 years it was dismantled and rebuilt on BGSU’s Campus. It became a living history museum in 1975. Over 1,000 people visit it each each year, including many school children. The schoolhouse and its contents are part of The David G. Elsass Educational Memorabilia Collection. David is a 1949 graduate of BGSU, a former teacher of history, an the only graduate of the college of education and allied professions to serve as its dean (1971-1981.) Marilyn Braatz was instrumental in the creation and development of the Little Red Schoolhouse on our campus. Without her the building would not be here today. She devoted 25 years of her life to the Schoolhouse. Mrs. Dolbee taught at the schoolhouse when it was in Norwalk. She first taught at the school in 1926, and came to BG to help officials celebrate the school house’s 20th anniversary on campus. Mrs. Dolbee’s niece donated 15,000 dollars. The state legislature gave 50,000 dollars to the school. It has a collection of more than 3,000 items. Children come to BG to visit the schoolhouse. They dress up like they did back in the day, do activities, and learn about the history. The schoolhouse contains a Norwalk built piano. Students loved to sing around it at noontime. The first schoolhouse stove stood in the corner where the paneling is blackened. There was a vent in the wall that opened to the outside. In 1883, a new “Round Oak” stove was purchased. It is fueling by coal as well as fire starters. It was given to the Educational Memorabilia Center by the Frank Linder family. The school holds most of all the memorabilia that had been used by students and teachers during the late 19th century and early 20th century. The Little Red SchoolHouse is a memorabilia building on BGSU’s campus that many people still go to. It’s there to help people gain culture, learn in, and teach children about our history.

Work Cited

“A Day in the Life.” One-Room SchoolHouse Center. N.d. Web. 16, September, 2015.
“One Room Legacy.” Americans Library. N.d. Web. 16 September, 2015.
“The Little Red School-House.” BGSU. N.d. 16 September, 2015. Image.
“The Story of The One-Room Schoolhouse.” British Columbia. 16 September, 2015.
“The Little Red School-House.” BGSU. 16 September, 2015. Image.