Patricia Eddy attended the Johnson School House that was located between Spraggs and Blacksville. She was born in 1935, went to school in 1941, and remembers the leaves falling into the autumn air that was quickly turning to winter.
When those frigid months hit, and the soft snow fell, she would try to catch a flake or two on her tongue as she rode to school on a horse pulled sled that was driven by her father. Pot belly stoves were paramount for warmth in the schoolhouse. The fire was started by the teacher, who was also her aunt. She worked hard carrying the wood.
No electricity was available for the teacher and her students, and battery-operated radios were used sparsely just to get an update on their surrounding world. World War II was at its height. Hearing an update of the bloody battles of Europe was sure to hush the children. Patricia and her classmates would listen with somber faces – worried what their futures may hold.
To relax these tense moments, Patricia said, “Us children would go outside, no matter the weather, and play, Andy-Over.” The game consisted of the kids throwing a lightweight ball up and over the schoolhouse. The children would wait on the other side with big smiles to see who would make the next catch.
Inside, competitive spelling bees were a highlight of instruction. A student who misspelled a word found their way to a seat and quietly awaited the outcome of the game.
Patricia went on to say, “We lived in an old log house on the Eddy Farm. We walked down to Rush Run, back to where Philip’s Church was.” That old wooden framed school held eight grades.
One’s lunch was brought from home in a sturdy pail. When there was snow outside, the children pulled on their heavy boots to use the outhouse. When it was warm, youngsters would trek to the hand-dug well to retrieve a drink of water for themselves and their classmates.
“Half of my mind was running down the road, and the other half was chasing after it,” Patricia recalls with a smile. No doubt a sentiment that most people can recall from their school days no matter the building.
You can almost hear the calls of those Greene County children echo through the hollows, “Andy-Over, Here It Comes!”
