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pupils, from the ages of 6 to 17. I felt competent in this particular teaching methodology; it resembled the format in which I had been taught.
    Every month I issued report cards to every student in every grade. Each student was rated in all the subjects, and there were never any parental complaints. Many of my students would eventually become teachers, nurses, doctors, lawyers, businessmen and women, and would contribute as great citizens and leaders in their communities. They were tolerant, decent children who came from good, hardy stock. I agree that Canada’s future was written on the blackboards of those one-room school houses.
    In those days, the students’ physical education or gym program was less structured: the daily walks to and from school provided an excellent exercise regime. Nonetheless, my students loved their game of baseball at lunchtime, and they would not play unless I played with them. I was happy to oblige. Although we had limited sports equipment, we learned to be resourceful. I coached them to compete in the community school sports days in Vonda, and we proudly paraded our school banner after winning coloured ribbons and trophies in baseball competitions as well as various races, jumping and throwing events.
    Every Friday afternoon we created a program of interesting, funny, or dramatic skits that involved singing and dancing or whatever else was appropriate and suitable entertainment. It was an enjoyable way to end a progressive week until we would meet again on Monday morning. At Christmas we would stage lavish concerts lasting two hours and each and every student was included and would have a role to play.
    Besides being the school teacher, I was also the school janitor. It was my responsibility to start the fire in the pot belly stove to heat the schoolroom. I could do that task easily enough, but to fetch water for the children, now that was another story. Obtaining clean water for the schoolhouse was a problem. Although some schools had their own well, potable water was not guaranteed. Sometimes students had to bring their own water from home or fetch it from a nearby creek, river, or other source. Well water could sometimes have a strange taste, smell, or colour and occasionally would be contaminated. A drought brought a huge number of grasshoppers to the prairies. The grasshoppers found their way into schoolhouse wells and into the students’ drinking water. The solution was to fit a cotton bag over the water pump’s spout. The water, after passing through the cotton bag was clean, but inside the bag was a soggy mess of drowned grasshoppers and other insects.
    Some schools arranged for water to be delivered to the school—but not ours. I had to walk across the road to the neighbour’s well and carry two heavy buckets of water through knee-high snow, occasionally in 30° below weather. Those buckets of water were heavy and awkward to carry, and it was a long trip. In the winter, the school would be so cold that a layer of ice formed on the top of the water I had brought in. Those are the days that stay in my mind.
    On Arbor Day, traditionally a day for beautifying the environment, teachers as well as pupils were obliged to clean the schoolyard. We picked up broken pieces of glass and any other garbage that had accumulated over the year. One spring, we realized that the grass around the school was too tall to rake, so we decided to burn it.
    That day, the spring weather was relatively calm with a gentle breeze occasionally blowing from the south. The older students felt quite capable and resilient for the job at hand. Everything went well until a little whirlwind whipped some cinders into larger flames that we could not smother in time. The growing, smoking fire was soon out of control and started to burn a field of stubble on the edge of the neighbour’s farm. This was not fun anymore.
    We worked furiously, but the fire was getting bigger and bigger as it head for the farmer’s yard. Some