Macon Traditions

Way back in 1957, there was no public kindergarten and the birthday deadline for attending first grade was Oct. 15. Unfortunately, my birthday is Oct. 16. Unfortunate, however, comes nowhere near describing the situation. 

My grandmother, God love her, kept me while my mama worked, and she had the memory of an elephant, along with the need to share daily exactly how awful I had been. My mother, God love her, too, had grown weary of hearing the litany of all the sins I had committed while she was at work. The thought of another year of that led her to throw herself at the feet of those in charge of the local school system, begging for an exception to the birthday rule.

Whatever she said convinced them, and I started first grade at the ripe old age of 5.

We lived in an apartment over Burrell Motor Company on Main Street, and the school I would attend was Franklin Elementary, located about where the cafeteria of Franklin High School is presently. We lived too close to be on a bus route and didn’t have a car, so I was supposed to walk to school with my older brother, Eddie, leading the way and being in charge. I might add to this day he brags about how he made me walk at least five steps behind him.

My first-grade teacher was Mrs. Peggy Bradley. That first day she made the mistake of calling me Teresa, so that night I told my people I would not be going back since the woman didn’t even know my name. 

Mama told my brother it was up to him to tell Mrs. Bradley even though Teresa was my name, Terri was my nickname. He did, but then that woman had the audacity to spell it T-e-r-r-y. Ugh!  I might have just started school, but I knew how to spell my name. My mama wrote a note saying I was Terri with an “I”, and that sweet woman told me T-e-r-r-i wasn’t even a correct spelling, but she would acquiesce anyway.

You’d think it’d be smooth sailing once I had my name straightened out, but when my older classmates, who were already 6, found out I was only 5, they called me a baby. Sometimes they wouldn’t even let me play with them. I tell you even though I loved learning to read, write, and cipher, first grade was not all it was cracked up to be.

Franklin Elementary was adjacent to a nice stand of woods where we played during recess. Believe it or not, we’d just disappear from our teacher’s sight and play until we heard her call that it was time to go in. 

I don’t remember what the final straw was that day, but I had had enough. Whatever happened during recess was enough to make me decide I was calling it quits and would just walk home. I knew a shortcut through the woods, and I didn’t figure I’d be missed anyway. Yes, I was a 5-year-old dropout.

Can you imagine my teacher’s panic when I was AWOL? I’m sure they scoured the woods looking for me, but I was gone. 

A call was made to my mama who left her job and started walking towards school, hoping to find me. And, sure enough, she did. We walked back to school together. 

Mrs. Bradley was so relieved I was found she told my mama since school was almost over just to take me on home. Mama said, “Oh, you don’t know Terri. If I take her home before time for school to be out, she’ll leave early every day.” So, there we sat until the bell rang.

Finally, my birthday arrived, and I was 6 years old! My mama told me to go to school and spread the word. I did, and it solved my problems.

From Franklin Elementary to East Franklin to West Franklin to Franklin High School to Western Carolina – back to teaching 10 years at East Franklin and then ending up teaching 20 years at Macon Middle, there was nothing like public education once I finally turned 6 years old.