better.” He discovered that the other boys received edible delicacies from home. “Could you send me some grapes or other small fruit? It would be very nice.” He described his daily routine, focusing on athletics, which constituted an obsession at Groton. Every boy played every sport, or tried to. The masters—the teachers—were likewise expected to play, following Peabody’s continuing vigorous example. Autumn being football season, Franklin leaped onto the gridiron. “I played football today on the 4th twenty-two (7th eleven),” he explained in his initial letter home. “I play right halfback or fullback.” He was no standout, being light and not especially fast. But he was as determined as any of the boys, and he took pride in his battlefield wounds. “I managed to dislocate my fourth finger in a small football game,” he recounted. “I have not been able to play since, in consequence, but I shall begin again tomorrow.”
James and Sara naturally wished to know how their son’s studies proceeded. “I am all right in Latin, Greek, Science, and French; a little rusty in Algebra but not more so than the others,” he wrote. This was reassuring to his parents, but even more to Franklin. Much as in sports, the boy who hadn’t been around other boys didn’t know how he compared intellectually with his contemporaries. Not surprisingly, given his age and the Groton ethos, his status on the field mattered more to him than his standing in the classroom. But parents who paid Groton’s tuition expected academic progress reports, which Endicott Peabody religiously provided. Franklin’s first-month report showed an average of 7.79 (out of 10), with the highest marks for algebra (9.75) and English literature (8.5) and the lowest for Greek (6.75) and history (7.33). The grade report also covered personal habits; Franklin rated a perfect 10 for punctuality and 9.68 for decorum. His class rank was fourth (of nineteen). This satisfied Endicott Peabody, who summarized Franklin’s performance: “Very good. He strikes me as an intelligent and faithful scholar and a good boy.”
F RANKLIN R OOSEVELT SPENT four years at Peabody’s school, during which time his adult personality gradually emerged. Of course, it was the premise of Endicott Peabody’s pedagogy that the adult personality didn’t merely emerge during the Groton years but was significantly shaped by the Groton experience. This belief informed every aspect of Groton life, from the rigorous living conditions to the regimented daily routine. Like the other boys, Franklin was assigned a Hundred House cubicle, a space of sixty square feet containing a bed, a dresser, and a chair. The walls of the cubicle were taller than the tallest boy but stopped well short of the ceiling, thereby affording each inmate some privacy but not too much. A few hooks on the walls held what clothes didn’t fit in the dresser, but the total storage capacity was meager, requiring the boys to choose between winter clothes and lighter gear for their kit on hand. An early cold snap could leave them shivering in linen; an unseasonable warm spell had them sweating in wool.
A communal lavatory adjoined the dormitory. Most American homes at this time didn’t have piped hot water, and neither did Groton. Cold water—plenty of it—was an essential part of the routine, with each boy being required to take a cold shower every morning, for purposes of hygiene and to calm youthful spirits. In early fall and late spring, the temperature of the water could be almost comfortable, but when snow covered the hill and ice sheeted the rivers and ponds, the morning shower was decidedly bracing.
After showers and dressing, the boys filed to the dining hall for 7:30 breakfast. Chapel followed at 8:15, and then classes from 8:30 till noon. A substantial meal fueled the young scholars for two more classes, which were followed by a vigorous afternoon of organized athletics. Supper revived them