Lesson Learned: Clean Hog Manure Off Boots Before Going to School

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Take it away, Scott. Transitioning from fourth to fifth grade for me was very difficult. Our school in Ziering, Iowa consolidated with the neighboring town of McCallsburg and became known as Nesco or northeast Story County. Since we lived out in the country, a school bus would pick us up early in the morning and we would be on the bus 30 to 45 minutes, stopping at other houses along the way to pick up other kids. We would be let out at the Ziering school building and then get on to another bus that would take us to McCallsburg, which was 10 minutes away.

After school, we would go through the same procedure to arrive home. There were new kids in the class from McCallsburg whom I had never met. And our fifth grade teacher, she seemed to be very strict and uptight, which was much different than my fourth grade teacher. And to top it off, we had to learn something they called new math. And I got my very first failing grade the first nine weeks. Now that did not sit well with my parents.

So mom and dad tried working with me on this new math and I limped along for the entire year. Now, sometimes in the morning before the school bus arrived to pick me up, I had to do chores. I had to feed the hogs as we did not have automatic feeders. The hog lot was a mixture of dirt, mud, and hog manure. And depending on the time of the year, if it was dry or rainy, that would dictate the ground underneath my feet to feed those hogs. At any rate, I usually wore my buckle up rubber boots to keep my shoes clean. Now this particular morning, I was running a little bit late in feeding the hogs before the bus came.

It was early winter and snow was on the ground, but the hog lot had not frozen over. So it was still quite soft and gooey, thus sticking to my boots. Upon finishing up, I ran to the house to get my school supplies and catch the bus as I saw it coming down the road. In my hurriedness, I did not clean off my boots.

I thought, it'll be all right. I will clean them off at recess in the snow. So upon arriving at school, I went directly to my classroom. Our classroom had a type of walk-in closet behind the teacher's desk, where we would hang our coats and put our boots.

Also, our school was heated by those big metal water heater radiators. There were a couple in the classroom and a smaller one in the coat closet. As class began, everything was going fine until about halfway through the morning. All of a sudden, our teacher lifted her head and turned as though something was annoying her. She started into teaching again and stopped a second time, looking back toward the closet. She placed her teaching material down and got up and went back into the closet.

It seemed like she was in there a long time. She finally appeared with a pair of boots in her hand. Something brown and ugly was dripping off those black boots.

And the smell, well, it was horrendous and permeating the classroom. She was not happy. She asked, whose boots are these?

No one answered. I shrunk down in my seat at my desk. She asked a second time, whose boots are these? My classmates all started to look over at me as I sheepishly raised my hand and confessed my crime. Of bringing stinky, hog lot manure covered boots to school, only to bring a new type of unacceptable perfume to our fifth grade classroom.

I thought, oh boy, now what? Well, she was very gracious to me as I was sure she saw my worrisome expression and even a hint of shame before my classmates. She stated to everyone in the class and didn't just pinpoint me.

Please, for those of you who live and work on the farm, clean your boots off at home before coming to school. She then asked me if I would please take my boots and place them outside the door of the school building and leave them there until it was time to go home. But what took the edge off the incident was the way she looked at me as she handed me the boots. It was as if her expression toward me was, Scott, it's okay and I understand.

That gave me the courage to come back to class unashamed and no one ever said anything to me about those boots. Maybe the fact that she knew my parents pretty well as my mom also was an elementary teacher played a part in her response. Whatever the case, I had a newfound respect for her and she became one of my favorite teachers. Well, through this incident, I learned a number of life lessons. The old saying is true, as in this case, never judge a book by its cover. When I said that my teacher always seemed uptight about something, that was because her husband was very sick and she was the breadwinner and breadwinner as well as her husband's caregiver.

She had a lot on her plate. I also learned not to shame people when they make mistakes, especially in front of their peers. This can be devastating, especially in those formative years. My fifth grade teacher was not only wise, but she was sensitive to 11 to 12 year old kids as she had been teaching for many years. I also learned the lesson, clean your boots off before going to school and a terrific job on the production by Monty Montgomery and a special thanks to Scott Jones for his story, Stinky Boots.

And by the way, he learned a lot about his teacher, that she was a wise, sensitive person who was herself going a lot of things. Stinky Boots by Scott Jones here on Our American Stories. Folks, if you love the great American stories we tell and love America like we do, we're asking you to become a part of the Our American Stories family. If you agree that America is a good and great country, please make a donation. A monthly gift of $17.76 is fast becoming a favorite option for supporters. Go to OurAmericanStories.com now and go to the donate button and help us keep the great American stories coming.

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