Sunday, July 14, 2019

A 1960s Child's Scrapbook

I recently salvaged this cute little scrapbook from the bins at GoodWill, and even though its contents are more "schoolwork" than "scrapbook," I couldn't help but love it. As I do all scrapbooks. Because I am odd that way.


This was once owned by a Mike M. 

Who was he? We may never know.

Why did you donate us to GoodWill, Mike M.? Why?

The scrapbook's 29-cent price tag was a clue that this thing was probably vintage, but exactly how old WAS it?

Why thank you, mimeographed turkey calendar from November, 1966! How helpful!

Thought #1: I'm sad mimeograph machines are a thing of the past, because I do love me some purple.

Thought #2a: I only know about mimeographs thanks to Judy Blume books. 

Thought #2b: Judy Blume Books: Endless fountains of information.

Purple pages aside, we now get to the heart of this scrapbook...

I really don't know what to make of Mike M.'s poetry. Some of it's not half bad. And the accompanying drawings are... interesting...

I know, I know... this was a kid. Probably. I'm not going to make fun of his work.

But I am going to critique it as a teacher would, because that is simply how I roll.

Okay, so here's the first one...

I like the woods
In autumn
When dry leaves
When the trees are bear
And the wind sweeps by
With a lomesome rushing sound
I can rustle the
In autumn
I can make a bed
In the thick dry leaves
That fallen
From the bark trees

Teacher Molly says: 

Where to begin? First of all, it's bare, not bear.
And Lonesome, not lomesome.
"I can rustle the" what? WHAT?
Bark trees? Really?
Child, you're better than this.


NONO November

No hot days to make us sweat!
No swimming pools to get us wet!
No dlids duilding nest in the trees!
No kites flying in the bries!
No long weeks of i dont care!
noovem gluesus none of these!
But there is thanksgiving if you please!

Teacher Molly says: 

Ugh. First off, what did November ever do to you? Second, were you going through times of extreme crisis while writing lines 3 and 6? Lastly, in the future, please capitalize the holiday Thanksgiving, as it is a proper noun.


FIRST Thanksgiving

Forty pilgrims brave and strong.
Ninety indian joined the throng.
Heaping tables prayers long.
Bilgring voices raised in song.
This then was our frist thanksgiving.
In this lang where now we live.

Teacher Molly says: 

Your picture suggests that you may be slightly confused about Thanksgiving. Please see me after class.


I Love Christmas

"I love Christmas," said Susie small. I love the tree, the gifts and all. I wonder what I am going to get. This could be my best day day yet. Not just the gifts, maybe twenty. Old Santa better bring me plenty. I love Christmas, said thoughtful. Bill I going to help the stocking to fill. I wonder what to get my mother. What toy will please my little brother? Helping santa's so much fun. Choosing gift's for ever one."

Teacher Molly Says:

How did Bill get the job helping Santa? Is he an elf? Do tell me more.



The weatherman must surely know.
I wish for heaps of snow.
I'll coast swiftly down the hill.
Into snowbanks, taking spills.
So on the star I see tonight
I'll wish tomorrow will be white

Teacher Molly Says:

Not bad. I'm seeing improvement, here. Keep it up.


In January

In January, when the snow lies on the ground so deep and white
I love to build a sturdy fort
Our start a friendly snowball fight
I love the crunch of rubber boots
The swish of runners on a sled
My mother says my eyes are bright
My cheeks a marry, rosy red.

Teacher Molly Says:

This poem is surprisingly good.

Too good.

Please see me after class.


Feed The Birds

Listen to the birds say
"Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.
Putting out a few crumbs
Will keep keep keep
Many of us birds
Alive in the snow;
Alive in the winter
When the winters winds blow."

Teacher Molly Says:


Lion Or Lamb

March came in like a roaring lion
With rain and ice and snow.
Will it go out like a gentle lamb?
That's what I'd like to know.

Teacher Molly Says:

Derivative. Lazy. Cute... but lazy. 


Look For The Pussy Willow

Look for the pussy willow
The earliest sign of spring
Look for the pussy willow
Before the robins sing
Look for the pussy willow
With fur so soft and gray
If you find a pussy willow
Then spring is on the way

Teacher Molly Says:

You copied this off that mimeographed worksheet up there, you sneaky child!


Cheer Up

Today I saw a robin
He winked his eye at me
He said, "Cheer up -- spring's coming
Just you wait and see."
I said, "We'll have more winter
But I'll tell you what I'll do
Come singing at my window
And I'll throw crumbs to you."

Teacher Molly Says:

KEEP your crumbs, you foolish boy. SPRING IS COMING!


Two Robins

One robin does not make a spring
But I saw two today

Teacher Molly Says:

Oh my, an unfinished poem! I mean, I assume it's unfinished, because there's only two lines. That's either sheer genius or total laziness.


Purple-inked worksheet to the rescue!

(I assume a teacher wrote this for the kids to copy.)

Two Robins

One robin does not make a spring
But I saw two today
And now I'll look for other signs
That spring is on its way,
Violets and daffodils
And tulips flaming red,
And in the country, farmers work
Putting seeds to bed.


Annnd that's it. Like many of the scrapbooks I run across, this one's only filled halfway. We'll never know if Spring eventually did arrive in 1967, not to mention summer. I mean, I'm assuming it did, but if this kid didn't write a poem about it, did it really happen?

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