By Johnny Jones
I was so excited to start School on my birthday, September 1, 1951 but not as excited as my mother. I rode my bike, with cigar box under my arm, to North Elementary. My teacher was a sweet lady named Mrs. Robins. The excitement soon wore off and I discovered I could go to the restrooms located at the rear of the room and sit on the pot.
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Robins to figure out my scam. She burst into the restroom armed with a yardstick and chased me out. Normally I would have been able to out run her but with my blue jeans around my ankles she whooped me endless times as we did laps around the classroom. Dang, foiled again.