Dal's first dance lesson

Dal’s First Dance Lesson

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As I have stated in other essays I have written, I attended a one room country school in the late forties and early fifties.  After the war was over someone made the decision that we “farm kids” needed a little culture.  As a result, Mrs. Leaver was hired to teach music to us rednecks for one hour a week.  She and her husband ran a dry cleaning service in Auburn.  That has nothing to do with this story; I just thought I would throw it in for the heck of it.

One day during forth grade Mrs. Leaver announced that we kids were going to learn how to dance.  We had to dance while the other kids sang the following song:

Paw-Paw Patch

Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie?
Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie
Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Chorus
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket.
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket.
Picking up paw-paws;put 'em in a basket.
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

The problem was that I had chosen that day to wear my knee boots to school. (Plus the fact I had no idea what dancing was)  There was a pretty girl named Bev that drew the short straw and was sentenced to be my dance partner.  Poor Bev.  I think that I trod upon her toes at least a dozen times.  When the whole thing was over, I am sure that she was as relieved as was I.

I think that Mrs. Lever saw the error of her ways.  We were never prodded into dancing again