As an educator for over 35 years, I have witnessed and participated in numerous Teacher Appreciation events. When I allow my memories to overtake me, I must surely know the origin of such events since I believe I attended the very first one. You see, the way I remember it, Teacher Appreciation celebrations started in Rolling Fork, Mississippi at the home of Winnie Spivey.
Each spring, Mrs. Spivey invited the teachers to a formal tea in her home. Her honorees were the teachers in the grade levels that her daughters were in that year. In the spring of 1961, Jane was in second grade and Anne was in the fourth. You see, Jane was in my mother’s second grade class so certainly my mother was invited. Mrs. Harris (my second grade teacher) was also included. Her son, Weldon, was Jane’s classmate. Mrs. Spivey invited me and Weldon to come to play with Jane during the Tea. That year Anne’s fourth grade teacher and colleagues were honored in a similar fashion, but on another day.
Miss Winnie was a most gracious hostess. At the time she was living in a home that had a screened porch in the front. There is no better way to enjoy an afternoon in the South, than to sit on a porch, overlooking the creek as the breezes blow through. Mrs. Spivey used her fine china and silver tea service. I could see open-faced sandwiches on silver trays. I’m quite sure some were cucumber sandwiches and others were tomato. It looked lovely as we crept up in the bushes and peered onto the porch. We were ever so quiet as not to give ourselves up. Remember children should neither be seen nor heard at a ladies’ tea. It just wasn’t acceptable.
On this particular day, the weather was delightful; not too hot, not too cold. Cypress trees lined the creek bank on both sides. The Spivey home was on the west side of Deer Creek. A gravel road meandered parallel to the creek in a northerly direction. On the east side of the creek lived the Carpenters. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter also had a beautiful home. Even more outstanding were the peacocks that strutted gracefully across their front lawn. If you looked closely, you might catch a glimpse of one roosting in a tree. When the birds became agitated, they would let out a high-pitched call that mimicked the sounds of women screaming. If they caught you unaware, it would send a chill up your spine.
Jane had the idea that we should go bike riding. From the storage area, we found four bikes. Jane, Anne, Weldon, and I each hopped on a bike and took off at high speeds, racing towards the gravel road. With our hair flying, we veered right and headed towards Rolling Fork. I’m sure that Weldon was winning the race. All the while, we were on the look-out for peacocks across the creek. He turned to double back as we continued on. In a moment, I heard an awful noise. I looked back to see Weldon, bicycle and all leaving the roadway, heading down the bank of the creek, and not slowing down. He was furiously trying to regain control of the bicycle as it continued its trek to the water. His attempts were to no avail. Soon there was a loud crashing sound as Weldon and the bike tumbled into the water. He stood up covered in muck and mud. It was not a pretty sight!
None of us knew what to do. We tried to help get him out of the water, but the bike was just too stuck! I got back on my bike and zoomed back towards the Spivey home. Never breaking my stride, I jumped from the bike and ran up the steps to the porch. I was out of breath but managed to scream, “Weldon’s in the creek! Weldon’s in the creek!!! Come help!”
The tea party was completely disrupted. The ladies all took off running! Mrs. Harris was in the lead. Weldon was her only child, and she was determined to save him. Of course, by the time we all arrived at the scene of the accident, Weldon and the bike were out of the water, but not yet up the creek bank. There was a great sigh of relief from all. Although muddy and wet, there wasn’t a scratch on Weldon. His pride was certainly damaged, but no significant casualty was noted on the bike itself.
The excitement was over. Now the only problem was of how to situate the wet and muddy Weldon in the car for the ride home. As I best remember, the ten or so mile ride south to Cary was extremely quiet. We had managed single-handedly to upend the tea party causing everyone to go home early. It was not a good day.
I was never invited back to a tea at the Spivey's house. As I recall, my mother wasn’t either. I was positive that Weldon’s catastrophe and my stunning announcement resulted in the end of Teacher Appreciation teas as we knew them. The celebrations I attended as a teacher were never as refined. We may have a luncheon nicely decorated in the school gym, but never any fine china or silver. I felt guilty. I had doomed my profession…. But none of them knew.
Not long ago, I asked my mother about the whole event. She laughed when I told her about Weldon. Although she is as sharp as a tack, she had no recollection of Weldon’s travels into the creek. She certainly didn’t remember my coming in screaming. Since she still remembers most of the bad things I did as a child, and she reminds me of them from time to time, I found this surprising. She did remember the lovely party she had attended at Winnie Spivey’s house. She was invited only that one year because she never taught Anne, nor at a grade level in which Anne was enrolled. Therefore, she was only invited the year she taught Jane.
My mother remembered those lovely affairs continuing for years. She stated that it was the highlight of the year for teachers, and everyone hoped to have Jane or Anne in their class! Apparently, the tradition continued until Jane left RFHS. If that was the case, then perhaps I had not destroyed Teacher Appreciation celebrations at all.
