From kindergarten through high school, I went to a Christian school in Dallas.  My parents, along with a number of other parents, helped begin this school just before I entered kindergarten.  I have only a few, vague memories of kindergarten.  I can remember Mrs. Rich, my teacher, who was a warm and lively person.  For some reason, I can also remember playing outside.  Our kindergarten class (the first class of this new school) met in a church building that would later become the Highland Oaks Church.

The following year as our new school building was being built, this entire new school, K through 12, met in the Pleasant Grove Church building (the home church for our family).  Finally, we moved to the new school building at 6916 Lake June Road.  (Why do I remember this address?)  I remember a few things about these early years.

2nd grade — My teacher was Mrs. Smothers.  I remember thinking that she was very "pretty."  One of her special students that year was Louise.  Louise had no arms.  I remember watching her, amazed at what she could do with her feet.

3rd grade — My teacher was Mrs. Rinks, who also went to our church.  She was a single parent who had a son named Ronnie.  She was full of life and energy.  She laughed a lot and had a way of making me feel good when I was around her.  One evening she came to our house for dinner.  I overheard her tell my parents that she needed to talk with them sometime.  I imagined that she was wanting to move me up a grade.  I thought that perhaps she was going to recommend that I bypass the fourth grade and begin the fifth grade right after I finished the third grade.  Uh, no.  I’m not sure where I got that idea but it certainly wasn’t from her.  Anyway, it is a good thing I stayed in the third grade.  After all, that is when Howard Jones taught me how to put peanuts in a coke (bottle), shake it up and then drink it all.  At the time, that seemed quite amazing.

4th grade — Mrs. Lipscomb was my teacher.  She was the oldest elementary school teacher that I had.  Now this was a Christian school, so we had daily chapel.  Chapel took place in the auditorium of a church building that was next door to our school building.  One day we had a guest speaker.  Mrs. Lipscomb told me to introduce him.   He was Paul Billingsly’s dad.  (Paul was another student.)  As I waited for the time to do the introduction, I thought about how silly that was.  "Why should I introduce him when everyone knows he is Paul’s dad?"  So, I decided not to make the introduction.  When the time came for the introduction, I looked at Paul’s dad and pointed to the speaker’s stand.  I then looked at Mrs. Lipscomb.  She was very unhappy with me. 

5th grade — Mrs. Walker was my teacher.  She and another teacher had come from Harding University.  This may have been her first year to teach.  I was in her class when President Kennedy was assassinated.   I was in her class when a boy in the senior class drowned at White Rock Lake while on a senior picnic.  I was also in her class when I met Pamela who sat behind me.  Pamela would probably be referred to today as "a special needs child."  She seemed to fall a lot.  I can remember turning around in my desk to see her wiping blood off a newly skinned knee.  That seemed to happen quite a bit.  I remember feeling very guilty and ashamed one day because I laughed at her.  I can still remember how hurt she looked.  It is interesting how such a mental snapshot can stay with me all of these years.    

Somewhere during these years, God was at work.  How?  I have no idea.  I do know that when I was a child, good people such as my mom and dad prayed for me.  Yet, I have no idea how to explain exactly what God was doing.  I do believe that he was at work, preparing me for a future life.

More later.