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PROPOSED REUNION OLD SPRING CREEK SCHOOL AT PLANO Old Educational Center Where Old Settlers Received Their Schooling Daily Courier-Gazette, April, 1926 Much interest is being aroused in the proposed reunion of the pupils of the old Spring Creek school, near Plano to be held this summer at a date to be fixed upon soon. Among the pupils of that old school that was successfully conducted during the sixties and seventies who now live in McKinney are Hon. George P. Brown, Mrs. M. W. Abernathy, Mrs. W. H. Dowell and perhpas others. Jim and Price Bush of Allen were both also students. John H. Carpenter, big Plano farmer has the following interesting contribution to the Plano Star-Courier. Plano, Texas, April 26, 1926 Plano Star-Courier: Dear Editor -- In reply to a number of my old schoolmates of the old Spring Creek school house, I want to say that I am heartily in favor of the meeting, and think it should be at its old ground if agreeable to Mrs. John Rice nee Beth Forman. I would suggest that it be sometime in August, preferable one day prior to the Old Settlers Barbecue and picnic. My good friend Joe Barnett suggested the last day of May, but that is in the midst of our harvest and cotton chopping time and we all would be very busy at that time. I drove over to the old grounds this morning and came away saddened by the great change that has been made by the hand of time in the sixty odd years that has elapsed since we attended that school. I stood on the little mound of dirt that is the sole remaining monument to the once happy days spent there by the rising generation of that day, and looking to the west and the old Joseph Klepper homestead is the only one remaining today that was there in 1864, the first year of my school days at that place. The Blackburn homestead is gone. It was about three-fourths of a mile to the northwest midway getween the school house and John Beverly's home, which stood on the west bank of the creek just where the road climbed the bank; it like the Blackburn house is also gone as is the Brown house that stood on the east bank of the same creek about half a mile above the Beverly house. Our road, or I should say, our footpath, was past the Blackburn house, up the creek by the Beverly place, then the F. R. Brown place, thence on by the old Harrington house, also on the east bank of the creek at that time occupied by a Mrs. Leach, who had quite a family of both boys and girls, but I only recall one of them going to school at that time. His name was Hugh but we called him Bud for short. He was living near Brownwood, Texas, a few years ago. It was about one and a half miles from the Harrington place to father's house making a total of about four miles to the old school house. We used to walk this distance every morning and evening during the school term except when we would ride three deep on a horse with only a rope for bridle and no saddle. I have often wondered what the present day boys and girls would do if they had to go to school that way. This morning as I looked over the old school grounds I could not recognize a single tree that was growing at the time of which I write. The large cottonwood trees that stood on the banks of the little branch just east of the school house are gone, not even a stump left to show where they once stood in all their grandeur towering far above their near neighbors, the hackberry, elm and red buds. The spring from which we use to carry water, of which Jim Bush wrote in a recent issue, is covered with a wall of black dirt some three or four feet deep. It was up on a little white rock beach east side of and near the mouth of the little branch, running from north to south in front of the school building. A hold had been cut out of the solid rock about twelve inches deep. This held enough to fill the bucket and not get the water muddy. The path from the house to the spring is still to be seen though overgrown thickly with grass at present. The spot where the house stood has recently been turned into a field and the little mound of dirt that we helped pack u-p there on our feet will soon be gone and if any of the old boys and girls of that day wish to see any thing they can recognize, they had better come to the reunion this year as it will soon be leveled by the hand of time, with not a single reminder of those happy days gone by. The first teacher I went to at this school was named McMinn. He was a large red-faced, freckled old fellow, and was about fifty years old. He was the first, last and only man that gave me a whipping. I was just five years old, learning my ab's, ba's, c's, be's, de's, etc. in the old Webster's Blue Back speller which was bought and paid for by my mother and given to me. It was my own book the only one I had, therefore, it was highly prized by men, and to keep it from being soiled or injured in any way, I carried the book to and from school with me each day. Uncle Bob Brown had build him a little dam across the creek, above his house some three or four hundred yards. This dam had caught and was holding quite a quantity of water, which was backed up the creek a quarter of a mile or so. One hot, sultry afternoon the latter part of May, I sat down on the bank that overlooked the dam in which and around which a hundred herd of cattle or so had collected. After throwing rocks and scaring the cattle as they were rather wild in those days, to see them run through the water tiring of this sport I went home forgetting all about my Blue Back Speller. The next morning early I started back to school and found my book none the worse from the exposure except for one leaf was slightly soiled and torn and of course, that had to be where my lesson was for that day. When I went up to recite my lesson, he asked me about the torn leaf, and I told him the truth about it. He just reached back into the corner where stood a half dozen dogwood switches, gathering one of those in his hand he preceeded to soundly thrash me. Will I ever forget or forgive him for that? Thousand times "No." Come to the re-union and I'll tell you the rest. By all means let us have that spelling match, also some old time singing. I am sure that Belle Brown, Alle and Molly Brown Wells have not forgotten. "How Firm a Foundation," or "There's a Land That is Fairer Than Day." Let us hear from some more of the old boys and girls. Yours for the meeting. J. H. Carpenter
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