We moved from Bay City to Pulaski at the beginning of what would be my tenth grade. I would go to school in Concord, a nearby small town. All twelve grades were held in a three-story brick building. Grades 9 through 12 were on the top floor. There was no elevator. It was a very old building that would later be torched by an arsonist.

I rode the school bus to and from school. I was the last one on the bus for the morning run and the last one off in the afternoon. The bus driver was usually at least half drunk for the afternoon run. He went in the ditch a couple of times but never wrecked. He was a likable fellow.

I made friends with Cordelia Densmore. She had long blonde Shirley Temple curls. We were friends until the end of the first marking period. I learned that she had the highest grades in the tenth grade and had for several years. The teachers marked on the curve. My excellent grades bumped Cordelia's grades down to a B. Our friendship ended. I made no other friends. I was considered the teacher's pet.

For instance, at the end of a marking period, she would ask me, in front of the class, what books I had read. At the end of my listing, she would say, "Very good, Shirley. You have earned an A". I did not have to submit a written book report like the other students did. I was not popular.

My home life was a disaster. Mother and Dad fought like cats and dogs, especially after a Saturday evening at the Concord Tavern. It wasn't long before we were the talk of Pulaski. Add to that the fact that I was not allowed to date. Dad would constantly remind me that "only whores go to high school."

I had only three dresses. That meant I had to wash two of them to get through the five-day school week. Worn-out shoes were another problem for me. Since this was before the days of artificial fabrics and such, the stitching on shoes wore out rather quickly. I would have a sole flapping on at least one shoe. I had no way to fix it. The metal tips of my shoe laces would have long been gone. Spit on and curled with my fingers was how I threaded the laces through the eyelets. School work was my only outlet from a dismal home life.

I had to be on the bus at the end of the school day. Dad did not allow me to stay for any after school activities. That meant I couldn't go to the school dance. My home economics teacher contacted Dad. She offered to buy me a formal to wear to the dance. She would pick me up at home and return me at the end of the dance. Dad told her where she could go. Dad thought I had something to do with her offer. He made my life miserable for a while about that.

Since it was wartime and rationing was in effect, I did not have sugar or anything else for the various dishes made in class. Dad used three teaspoons of sugar in his morning cup of coffee. He didn't stir. The sugar settled in the bottom of the cup. There was never enough sugar to use in any dessert at home. I would have to sit through the cooking part of my class and watch the other girls make their project. I would write a theme paper to cover my lack of cooking time.

I remember one girl who was very popular. The boys flocked around her like honey bees around a flower. One day, she did not show up for class. The room was abuzz. She had given a venereal disease to a number of boys in her corner of the study hall. I no longer envied her.

Our school library was behind glass cases along the inside wall of the study hall. The teacher's desk had windows on her two remaining facing walls. My seat in study hall was the first one along the bookcase wall. School was always easy for me. I seldom took books home. While other students were studying, I started reading the books facing me behind the glass cases. There were no current titles there. It was dismal reading.

I ate my sack lunch at my study hall desk. I couldn't eat eggs. There never was any slicing bologna or other cold meat at our house. I couldn't stomach warm slicing bologna anyway. My sandwiches were usually bread and butter plus anything else Mother had around the kitchen. Water from the drinking fountain topped it off.

For the last of my school days at Concord, I lived with Myrtle Leggett. She had the Pulaski Telephone Company's switchboard in her house. It was her only source of income. She got a percentage of the long-distance calls. I would operate the switchboard after school and evenings to give her a rest. Mother still did my laundry, but I lived with Myrtle. I was surprised that Dad would agree with such an arrangement. I was glad to be out of the house and away from his temper.

When the school was torched by an arsonist at the beginning of my eleventh grade, I took it as a sign for me to leave school. Dad would never have allowed me to go to college and I had no way of knowing about scholarships. Getting a job was my way out. Dad was thrilled to have me quit school. It was 1943 and the war was still raging. With men gone, jobs were easy to find. I was fifteen. Time to go to work.