For many years in the Union County schools it was common practice for teachers to teach split grades. Funds for operating the school system were not as plentiful then as now, and the current laws that govern pupil: teacher ratio had much more latitude. It was nothing unusual for an elementary teacher to have forty or more students in one classroom, and many teachers taught two grades in one classroom. Additionally, some teachers concurrently served as principals.

Having been officially employed to on August 3, 1987 left very few days for mental preparation for the beginning of the school year. That was the only form of preparation I could do, as I did not even know to what grade I would be assigned. At that point, I was just thrilled to have a job.

When I was an undergraduate English major at Lincoln Memorial University, I took a class in Appalachian literature. One of the books we read for that course was Lee Smith’s Oral History. By definition, oral history is a study of the past relayed through the spoken, not the written, word. The transcriptions then are written down for posterity.

Sometimes, someone unexpected comes into your life out of nowhere, makes your heart race and changes you forever. For some, this someone is a cop. This was not true in my case (at least, not until I got my first traffic ticket).
I suppose I was a somewhat sensitive child. Occasionally I would get my feelings hurt by a sharp word of criticism or correction. Luckily, I had a true pal who never failed to comfort.

People who only see me at work or church are used to seeing me wear ties. Back in the fall I was at a Union County High School football game. As my nephew and I were planning to sell Italian ice to raise funds for the Union County Lions Club at that game, I was dressed in blue jeans. Hunter Collins, the new band director, commented, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a tie.” I’ve known Hunter for many years through our mutual attendance at the First Baptist Church of Maynardville. Hunter had just never had the opportunity to see me outside of a church service or on a Saturday.

I recently saw an episode of The Andy Griffith Show that I must have seen dozens of times. A Google search will tell you that this was Season One, Episode 13, “Mayberry Goes Hollywood”.
In that episode, the town decided to really “put on the show” for the film crew. Everybody dressed up in false finery, and the storefronts spiffed up their window displays. I never noticed it before, but the window of the funeral parlor advertised its convenient “layaway plan”.

An email I received quoted Robert Orben, “Old people shouldn’t eat healthy foods. They need all the preservatives they can get.”
I suppose this statement could be debated. Charlie Sampson, my maternal grandfather, was born in 1889 and lived to be ninety-seven. For a great part of his early life he undoubtedly ate food that was grown on the farm, most likely without aid of pesticides and preserved by home canning on a wooden cookstove. My great aunt Lidia Mincey lived to be ninety-three, and I’m sure she grew up under similar circumstances.

At the beginning of June, 1987, I was a soon-to-be twenty-two-year-old. I still had challenges with acne and weighed 120 pounds “soaking wet”. I was degreed, certified, and looking for a job.
Actually, I started that process during Christmas break of 1986. I called David F. Coppock, then Superintendent of the Union County Public School System. Mr. Coppock listened to me “pitch” myself for a job, then responded, “I guess you want to come in and fill out an application.” I replied that I wasn’t yet graduated, and he said that was fine, just to put my anticipated date of graduation and certifications.

The traditional course of college study for undergraduates in the teacher education program for many years, including the 1980s, consisted of a four-year undergraduate program ending with a bachelor’s degree and teaching certification in a specialized area of education. Back in those days, the college academic year was divided into four quarters (including summer, each about ten weeks long), not three semesters (each about sixteen weeks long). Traditionally, the last quarter of an education major’s college career was spent student teaching.

I remember one day at the Union County Board of Education’s Central Office Ms. Pat Baker came in. She announced she was there to fill out her retirement papers. I was most surprised. Ms. Pat said that she knew that one day she would wake up and know it was time for her to retire, and she said that was the very day.