Happy 155th birthday, Nebraska!
Today, I would like to turn the calendar back 55 years, to Nebraska’s Centennial.
March 1, 1967.
As a cocky seven-year-old second grade student, I was growing by leaps and bounds at developing an attitude of rebellious independence.
Fortunately, my self-reliance came to a head that day.
Fortunately? Let me explain.
At the time, I was attending classes at the Malcolm Public Schools, located 12 miles northwest of Lincoln. MPS was celebrating the Cornhusker State’s Centennial, and students were allowed to come to school dressed as Pioneers.
Following a ceremony in the gym, I hightailed it to the playground where I remained until late in the school day.
During the next 90 minutes, my teacher, Mrs. Fern Westfall, had a student come to the playground on three occasions and ring a handheld bell to let me know recess was long over.
I ignored the bell three times.
Then came the fourth.
Mrs. Westfall appeared and rang the bell herself.
After ceasing my swinging, she proceeded to grab my right arm and drag me indoors.
Mrs. Westfall then ordered me to stand in front of the class and explain why I ignored the bell. If I didn’t provide an explanation, I would be sent to the principal’s office, which meant a sure spanking from Mr. Leonard Melichar, who had recently warned me my bell ignoring practices wouldn’t be tolerated much longer.
I finally blurted out that I hadn’t heard the bell and broke into tears. If little lies are considered white, then this one was the darkest shade of black. But I wasn’t about to plead guilty to insubordination.
Mrs. Westfall then announced to the entire second grade class that she could no longer trust me and that I had become nothing but a huge disappointment. I would rather have had her whip me than tell the whole class I was no longer trustworthy.
However, her strategy worked. I eventually became an obedient and respectful student, not only for the remainder of second grade, but for the entirety of my school years that followed.
I had decided school offered too many enjoyable opportunities to miss out on.
Had Mrs. Westfall not shamed me in front of my peers by labeling me as untrustworthy, my evolution as a student and person may have deeply darkened.
Mrs. Westfall would go on to educate children until 1976 for a total of 25 years. When a new elementary school was built in 1981, it was appropriately named Fern Westfall Elementary.
Mrs. Westfall passed away on June 2, 1996, and is buried at Lincoln Memorial Park, the same cemetery where my mother’s parents are at eternal rest.
Nebraskans have been educated by wonderful teachers for 155 years. And a legendary educator’s label of dealing with an untrustworthy second grader during Nebraska’s Centennial celebration served as my defining moment.