third grade!

When I was in 2d grade, we moved to Aurora, Colorado, a suburb of Denver.  M&D must have planned on staying a while because we bought a house immediately.  It had basement where middle set up her kitchen and play house and where I set up an electric train and flew a battery operated air plane.  We had what I recognize now as an incredible view of Pikes Peak the Rocky Mountains there.  And our back yard grew what must have been the indigenous prairie grass without any effort--almost three feet high in a week!  Dad paid us to pull these weeds and we built forts out of them until Mom was afraid the mounds would attract snakes and had them hauled off.  In spring Dad planted grass and the weeds didn't come back. 

Youngest was a baby and middle was either not old enough for school or just starting kindergarten, but I proudly attended the neighborhood elementary school, bike-riding distance from home on my balloon-tired, red Huffy with my books in saddle baskets on the back wheel.  The school required that we lock our bikes to a rack though I never remember any theft problems.  I recall listening to the World Series on the radio at school during recess—Pirates v. Yankees-- and having a really mean second grade teacher.   Because of the number of kids, the school-day that year lasted only a half day (two sessions daily for the teachers).  The next year, the school must have expanded (I vaguely recall a building program, or temporary buildings) because classes ran all day. 

For third grade I had one of my favorite teachers, Ms. Henderson, who by all appearances, was even then a very old lady.  I recall huge facial wrinkles and white hair.  She wore cotton dresses, so it must have been warm.  She loved teaching and we read Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn and other classic stories.  There were several Davids in the class and even another David C, so for a while I was David Ch until I stood before the class one day and announced that from that point on I wanted to be called "DC."  For the rest of that year, I signed papers, received grades, and responded only to DC.  The class was categorized as “accelerated,”  so in addition to the normal work, we got to do extra fun things.  I specifically remember we studied “Indians,” and made costumes by cutting fringe on the sleeves of old military shirts.  We made a life-sized Tee Pee out of paper mache.  For birthdays, Ms. Henderson would put a present on the bulletin board in the back of the room, and just before lunch, without announcing whose birthday it was, begin singing "Happy Birthday."  By the time the class got to the name in the song, the birthday person was supposed to stand up, go to the back and get the present.  On my birthday, I remember thinking it was good to be reserved (though, I did not have a shy bone in my body), and so they sang the song three times before another kid finally stood up, got the present and sat down.  I was mortified until Ms. Henderson interrupted and reminded the kid that her birthday was the next day. At lunch, she reloaded the present box and made the class sing again.  I stood up without delay that time.  I also remember forming a club with kids in the neighborhood (doesn't everyone at that age).  We called it the "Boys Club" and met in the garage.  We decided to have dues of 10 cents per week, and one boy brought a dollar from his parents saying they did not want to keep up with paying a dime each week.   One day when we were playing a neighborhood girl asked to join, and after paying her dues, we changed the name of the club to the Boys Club and One Girl.  I remember seeing Danny Thomas on TV advertising for his Boys Club, and believing he stole the name from us.  Our neighborhood was new, with building all around, and so there was lots of scrap wood and nails.  We visited the home building sites daily after school (like you, we roamed freely in those days--in fact I remember riding my bike across the highway to the mall, probably half a mile from home--I know I wasn't allowed to do that, and I'm certain my parents did not know).  One of the boys from the club and I decided to build a car, like a Flintstone car, out of the scrap lumber.  We even made a trip to the dump to get buggy wheels.  That car was so solidly built that it was way too heavy to move,  buggy wheels notwithstanding.