In a previous blog I proposed that the standard of the teaching in the rural schools of late 19th century Perth County may have been of high quality. As support for my position, I pointed to the written reports submitted to the federal government by James B. MacEwan when he worked for the Dairy Commissioner's Office in Ottawa during the early 1890's. I speculated that it would be unlikely that James would have had any formal education beyond that provided by the teachers in SS # 3 Downie. (To be sure, he likely attended a dairy school but I suspect that those sessions were of very short duration and focussing on the practical aspects of cheese making.) However, other stories about the quality of the education offered in rural schools are much less positive. Here is a story related to Gordon McEwan by his father Jack who attended the Black Creek school a few years after his Uncle Jim. "The children [i.e., Jack and his two older sisters Harriotte and Agnes] went to S. S. No. 3, Downie Township where the mysteries of learning were unfolded to them by varied types of teachers. One of these was a unique individual by the name of David McNeil who boarded at Goettlers and every morning went to the straw stack to fortify himself with a drink before meeting his scholars. Another stop at a towering willow shading Black Creek permitted him to enter the portals of learning with a visible incentive.
When McNeil entered the school room and called the class to attention, he staged quite a show in depositing the willow gad in a prominent position.
"That won't last long," John whispered slyly to his friend and cousin, Peter Smith, who acknowledged the remark with a nod and a smile.
"What are you smiling about, Peter!" thundered McNeil happy to have an opportunity to put the class in place.
Afraid of the dictatorial pedagogue, Peter replied, "John said that it wouldn't last too long, sir."
McNeil bared his teeth slightly. "You don't think so, John! come up here!"
Whereupon, the schoolmaster proceeded to smash the willow branch over the back of the suffering John.
Next morning, as John was readying himself for school, his mother Harriotte seeing him toying with the edge of the wash cloth in a manner common to growing boys, questioned:
"Have you cleaned your ears thoroughly, John?"
"Yes, mother," was the rejoiner.
As a mother beset by the principle of cleanliness, Harriotte stepped up to her son, put her hand on his shoulder and attempted to peer into the suspected auditory appendage. However, she did not get the opportunity. As soon as her hand touched her son's shirt, he moved as though he had been jolted by an electric battery."What's wrong, John?" questioned the startled mother.
"Nothing, mother," returned John who knew the rules of the pioneer day -- rules which stated that if you were beaten at school, you were punished at home, too.
Harriotte again resumed her examination of the suspected ear but when she laid her hand on the bank of her offspring, he responded with a violent jerk.
"Take off your shirt!" she ordered and when she saw the angry criss-cross welts forming an ugly pattern across the back of her son, she went to the door and called for her husband. Robert looked carefully at John's back and made a remark that he probably deserved what he got but when John took off for school that morning, he carried a note written by his father asking Mr. McNeil to come to the McEwan farm after school.
That afternoon, John's back was again bared -- this time by his father for the purpose of showing the visiting school master his handiwork. McNeil was profuse in his apologies but when he left that afternoon, he, too, had a lesson in mind.
"Mr. McNeil," Robert stated, "I expect you to keep order in our school but if you ever beat my boy like you did yesterday, I'll break your neck."
John continued school -- at the end in the winters only, until at last he said "Farewell," to formal learning. "
I have attached a picture of John in the era after the McNeil incident and likely taken during the period in which he attended only in the winter.
