reach the tractor pedals worked during planting and harvest seasons. Education wasn't that important; the goal was to find a decent job, get married, and have a family. Recreation consisted of hunting coons and trapping muskrat and, for some of the men, drinking. In terms of community affairs, these families usually had little interest or influence.
Although Trena went to school regularly, she seemed in some ways never to quite fit in. Classmates from better-off families saw her as "rough" because of her poor grammar and the fact that her clothes were not the newest or the best. She was friendly enough to anyone who approached her, but otherwise she usually hung back, keeping quietly to herself. In class, she was not considered bright by her teachers or her classmates. She seldom had her homework done, and she seemed to have difficulty following the teachers' instructions. She often looked over her classmates' shoulders while doing her work. But she excelled in sports, particularly track and basketball.
Most small towns have one teacher who stands out among all the rest -one, who over the years, is a favorite of the kids in class after class. Stories of affection and admiration are passed down until she (it is always a woman) becomes a local folk hero, and the kids entering her class feel as if they'd known her all their life. What sticks with her students long after they're gone and grown up is the feeling that, as children, this adult treated them as human beings.
In the Nodaway-Holt school district, which included Graham, Maitland, and Skidmore, this teacher was Katherine Whitney. She served as the guidance counselor, as well as teacher of algebra, art, business, psychology, and shorthand, from 1965 until she retired in 1985. As guidance counselor, she was the one students talked to about their problems and the one who talked to the parents about their kids' problems. Even the toughest characters in the area-the drinkers, abusers, and active malcontents-remember with a laugh how, on a Monday morning, when they were bragging about their weekend's exploits, she would sit them down and tell them the truth about men and manhood: "Boys," she would say with a serious face, "there's more to being a man than driving cars fast, drinking beer hard, and laying lots of women." She would chide them that, if half of their numbers were true, there couldn't be a virgin left in Nodaway or Holt County. She tried talking to parents about their sons' drinking and fighting, but the fathers' response was usually "Well, hell, that's what I did in high school!"
Mrs. Whitney saw Trena as young for her age. She couldn't recall her mother or stepfather coming to school for parents' night; in fact, she never met Treva or Ronnie.
To Mrs. Whitney, Trena was soft and warm, and had a nice quality of friendliness about her, like a friendly puppy, always glad to see you. She and her friend Vicki were alike, except Vicki was a little bit more bubbly.
Vicki, a pretty brown-haired girl from the Graham area, was Trena's only close friend. The girls had become friends in fifth grade, when they first attended school together and by sixth grade, they had become inseparable. They sat next to each other in class, passing notes back and forth, and hung around together, during recess and after school. They talked on the phone at least once a day about schoolwork and boys. The girls often spent the night at each other's house, and they promised they would always be best friends.
Trena gave Vicki a pendant for her birthday in the eighth grade, and a bracelet with her name engraved on it for Christmas. The pendant was a piece of oval red glass encased in a gold frame with a gold cross etched in the middle. Years later, Vicki still had the pendant and the bracelet securely tucked away in a small box in her bedroom.
Through most of the eighth grade, everything seemed fine to Vicki. Trena had a boyfriend, David, who took her to the homecoming dance, and she played
Although Trena went to school regularly, she seemed in some ways never to quite fit in. Classmates from better-off families saw her as "rough" because of her poor grammar and the fact that her clothes were not the newest or the best. She was friendly enough to anyone who approached her, but otherwise she usually hung back, keeping quietly to herself. In class, she was not considered bright by her teachers or her classmates. She seldom had her homework done, and she seemed to have difficulty following the teachers' instructions. She often looked over her classmates' shoulders while doing her work. But she excelled in sports, particularly track and basketball.
Most small towns have one teacher who stands out among all the rest -one, who over the years, is a favorite of the kids in class after class. Stories of affection and admiration are passed down until she (it is always a woman) becomes a local folk hero, and the kids entering her class feel as if they'd known her all their life. What sticks with her students long after they're gone and grown up is the feeling that, as children, this adult treated them as human beings.
In the Nodaway-Holt school district, which included Graham, Maitland, and Skidmore, this teacher was Katherine Whitney. She served as the guidance counselor, as well as teacher of algebra, art, business, psychology, and shorthand, from 1965 until she retired in 1985. As guidance counselor, she was the one students talked to about their problems and the one who talked to the parents about their kids' problems. Even the toughest characters in the area-the drinkers, abusers, and active malcontents-remember with a laugh how, on a Monday morning, when they were bragging about their weekend's exploits, she would sit them down and tell them the truth about men and manhood: "Boys," she would say with a serious face, "there's more to being a man than driving cars fast, drinking beer hard, and laying lots of women." She would chide them that, if half of their numbers were true, there couldn't be a virgin left in Nodaway or Holt County. She tried talking to parents about their sons' drinking and fighting, but the fathers' response was usually "Well, hell, that's what I did in high school!"
Mrs. Whitney saw Trena as young for her age. She couldn't recall her mother or stepfather coming to school for parents' night; in fact, she never met Treva or Ronnie.
To Mrs. Whitney, Trena was soft and warm, and had a nice quality of friendliness about her, like a friendly puppy, always glad to see you. She and her friend Vicki were alike, except Vicki was a little bit more bubbly.
Vicki, a pretty brown-haired girl from the Graham area, was Trena's only close friend. The girls had become friends in fifth grade, when they first attended school together and by sixth grade, they had become inseparable. They sat next to each other in class, passing notes back and forth, and hung around together, during recess and after school. They talked on the phone at least once a day about schoolwork and boys. The girls often spent the night at each other's house, and they promised they would always be best friends.
Trena gave Vicki a pendant for her birthday in the eighth grade, and a bracelet with her name engraved on it for Christmas. The pendant was a piece of oval red glass encased in a gold frame with a gold cross etched in the middle. Years later, Vicki still had the pendant and the bracelet securely tucked away in a small box in her bedroom.
Through most of the eighth grade, everything seemed fine to Vicki. Trena had a boyfriend, David, who took her to the homecoming dance, and she played
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