one room schools – distractions on the way to school
I am thinking about the ways landscape would have influenced the day at a one room school in New Brunswick one hundred years ago. As we drove some of the back roads in the Stanley area this past weekend, I tried to think like a child on the way to school. So many distractions!
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First, the views. Fields green with new corn, yellow with buttercups, winter-white with daisies …
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And daisies to pick, perhaps a bouquet for a favorite teacher …
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Brooks to cross, and the lure of watching for fingerlings in the clear water …
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And a farmer’s pond, with ducks to watch, fish to feed, frogs to hunt and cat-tails …
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Hillsides of fragrant hay-scented fern to roll in …
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Orchards to play in and ripe fruit to gather …
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It makes me wonder how anyone ever made it to school.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2016
nichepoetryandprose 
I used to walk to school, 2 miles one way, through a bit of woods and along agricultural fields. I have many fond memories of doing so. Your post brought some of them back, Jane 🙂
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Watching Seasons
July 8, 2016 at 4:08 pm
Hi. Great! Were there some days you were late because of distractions? Perhaps your love for the natural world began on those treks? Jane
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jane tims
July 8, 2016 at 5:02 pm
They are all beautiful pausing places. I think I would want to take my shoes off and wade in the babbling brook. 🙂
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Rebecca
July 6, 2016 at 5:58 pm
Hi. Yes, I imagine it would be hard for a child to resist those side trips. I was a city girl and still found lots of ways to saddle on the way to school. Thanks Rebecca!
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jane tims
July 6, 2016 at 8:42 pm
The words to the photos create poetry in themselves … creeping like snail to school … I always hated the place!
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rogermoorepoet
July 6, 2016 at 7:48 am
The blog is a great place to explore words and ideas. When the poem is written, I m certain it will include these ideas and more. To me the trip to school was about hanging out with my friends. I remember two things about my walk to school in Grade Three – the big siren installed on the top of a pole after the Cuban crisis, and, on one corner, a spread of pineapple weed which looked just like a tiny forest and I was the Giant!
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jane tims
July 6, 2016 at 11:25 am
I think we look at our work in a very different way when we know that other people, not just our close friends, are going to read it. It sharpens our critical faculties and we are able to work in greater and more intimate detail with the text.
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rogermoorepoet
July 6, 2016 at 11:30 am