Knowing what was going on gave them a head start. The others nodded agreement. It must have been a disorderly kind of arrangement, with all the different subjects and levels and cross-currents and kaleidoscopic chatter, but apparently young minds must thrive on that sort of thing. Rather than breeding confusion, the intellectual ferment in that little room proved to be a creative compost, and the kids loved it. The school was more like an extension of the family than an institution.
Little kids learn from big.
Wilton had nine little schoolhouses scattered around town in those days, and the kids made their way from home and back on foot. It was the Depression, after all, and there was no money for frivolities like transportation. Each child had a bankbook, and each one put in 10 cents a week, solemnly noted and stamped. People around Wilton tilled vegetable gardens, and kept chickens and often pigs too. To overwinter carrots, our parents buried them in the cellar, and they preserved cabbages by digging a ditch in the ground and covering them with straw.