May, 2015 Mary Jo Wrote
The School Board—One in the Family, Two from the Class
Mary Jo Peitzman Bennett
 
Few of us would aspire to serve as a school board member.  Yet in the late 1940’s and the 50’s the fathers of two of the DCHS Class of 1955 served as member of the five-person school board:  Kay’s father, Orville Fox and my father, Dale Peitzman.
 
At the end of the 1946-47 school year all the country one-room schools in Dallas County were closed.  Dad was the chairman of Grant #9, the rural school my brother, Fred, and I attended.  He was asked to run for the Dallas Center School Board and helped in the relocation of all rural school students into Dallas Center.  Dale and Orville were serving when Roger Peterson’s father resigned and moved to Indianola as superintendent and when Mr. Ritland was selected as the Dallas Center Superintendent.  Dad left the board after Fred and I graduated.
 
I never really thought much about Dad being on the school board—it was just a fact of life.  In our home those employed by the school district were much respected.  My mother, Bea, had been a music teacher in Dallas Center when she met my Dad.  (Don Gift’s mother, Velma, was also a teacher at the same time.)  And, my teacher in country school was my aunt, Ellen Peitzman.  My parents would presume our teachers were in the right if a problem arose at school.  It was just understood that any school punishment would result in a double punishment at home.
 
For Dad things were either black or white—there was no grey area.  He listened to all sides but you always knew in the end exactly where he stood. 
 
Our very “spirited” class “rocked the boat” a bit and as juniors decided to hold the prom we sponsored in Dallas Center, not in a Des Moines venue.  There were “a few” complications:  the stage would have to be disassembled and removed to provide space for dancing, and then reassembled for graduation—not an easy task.  We also proposed staying out later, and also faced raising the money to support the costs.
 
I have no idea who suggested that Kay and I should present our classes’ proposal to the school board and face our fathers in their role as board members.  I recall being terrified but after much preparation we did it.  It was certainly stressed to us by the board that “we had to make this work” or no other classes would be allowed to continue what we were proposing.
 
Thanks goodness it worked—and we had a wonderful time.  However, I remember having a few minutes of panic when I thought I might have to tell my father that our leaky fountain had warped the gym floor!
 
It seems to me that school board members were very involved in the school at that time.  Kay reminded me of a trip the board made to Cedar Falls to interview prospective teachers.  I recall a summer when my Dad had a very painful back condition and couldn’t leave the house for several weeks.  Several hopeful teacher candidates came to our house for Dad’s interviews—Bill Williams is the one of the group I remember.  I was told to introduce myself and then politely “disappear”. 
 
While having conversations in recent years with classmates, I realized there were many “events” in high school that occurred without my knowledge.  I was a “girl” living in the country who certainly did not spend time in town unless for a school or church related activity.  Perhaps I was shielded a little by my father’s position on the school board?
 
At any rate, what were the odds that in a class of 35 that two class members’ fathers would be on the school board at the same time and serve for so many years?  The class of 1955 left its mark at DCHS.  I am proud to be a member of that class!

The Big Move from Attending Country School to Town School in Dallas Center
Mary Jo Peitzman Bennett
 
I attended my first four years of school at Grant #9, a one-room school about a mile from our farm east of Dallas Center.  This was the same school my grandfather Peitzman, his siblings, and my father and his sibling attended.  In May of 1947 my brother Fred and I spent our last days seated in a row of wooden desks at our rural school.  The next September we attended “town” school in Dallas Center.
 
Country school for me was like a big extended family.  Here were five year olds together with twelve year olds in one room for lessons and outdoors for recess.  We all lived in the same neighborhood and were maybe even on the same rural phone line.  Some families like mine had lived here for several generations while other families might be in and out in a year.    And like a big family, some you got along with while others not so much!
 
A “good” teacher determined whether you received a good education in a country school.  Can you imagine preparing lessons for eight grades?  The country school teacher was the janitor who stoked the furnace on cold mornings and who shoveled a path to the front door after a snow.  She taught all subjects including art, music, and physical education, and was the recess supervisor.  All four years I attended Grant #9 my teacher was my aunt, Ellen Peitzman.  She was definitely “Mrs. Peitzman” all the school year—never my aunt!
 
My brother Fred was only a year behind me in school.  He started when he was four as a first grader since there was no kindergarten!  He never had another child in his grade at country school.  I, on the other hand, always had grade classmates.  Colleen, Iris and Ed all attended Grant #9 and we were together later in town school.
 
Because we were all in one room there was a lot interaction—we seemed to learn by osmosis from lessons being taught to others.  If Lincoln’s birthday was coming up everyone learned about Lincoln.  If we were giving a play for our parents at Christmas, everyone had a part, made decorations and costumes.  Older students listened to us read and helped us practice cursive.  “Red Rover, Red Rover” could be a little rough at recess—the eighth grade boys were really big!
 
And then we learned our school would close.  A bus would now transport us to Dallas Center, no more walking down the road to my grandparents’ house after school.  I would be in a classroom with only fifth grade students, more than 30, in a large brick building with many classrooms, a gym, a lunch room area, a separate entrance for boys and girls and “indoor bathrooms”.
 
The last few weeks of August brought doubts.  Would I get lost in that multi-story building?  Would I really have to walk down the fire escape?  Would a teacher I’d never met like me?  Would I feel alone?   Would I have friends?  Could I compete with all those other fifth graders?
 
Well, it did all work out.  It didn’t take long to feel like a member of the class.  I already knew some students from country school and church.  I’d had a good education in country school and   what wasn’t to like about town school—we had great homemade hot lunches and I was in band and could wear a uniform!