SPRING BREAK: NOW what is that? When I was a child, about 201 years ago, I never heard of such a thing as a spring break. You are telling me that all the kids go to exotic places like Daytona Beach, without their parents? They have parties, and "hang out"? This is a language with which I am unfamiliar.

During my years in attendance in that little country school on the corner at the junction of the Dendinger road and the Leapley road, there was no such thing as Spring Break. You are telling me this is a "rest" for the kids to "get-away" from their hard daily grinds of going to school? As a student, school was not considered work; staying home and helping on the farm was. We had Good Friday off from school, but before that day was over, we agreed that maybe it would have been less demanding in school.

My father kept track of when we would be out of school and available for a thousand jobs around the farm. His favorite was planting potatoes. I don't remember that we griped, and if we did, how would that help? The potato planting was something we might have moaned a little about but we knew it would turn out to be a fun day. The whole family worked together. Mother was there, little sister was there, and big brother, my father, and maybe Mr. Murkle, our hired man.

The potato patch had already been plowed and harrowed but the team of horses and the plow turned over the rich soil to make a furrow for planting the potato eyes. The potatoes had been cut a day before to be seeds for this year's crop. Each of us had our jobs. No way would we slack off on what we were supposed to do, we were too proud. We could carry the bucket, and we would! Even little sister had her job, and we all had the job of looking after her. Occasionally a clod of dirt would accidentally hit us; now, how did that clod pick itself up from the ground and hurl itself at us? The "guilty" person could be my father, my brother, or maybe the hired man. We knew it wasn't my mother, but she was smiling. She knew who the culprit was.

Mother had a water jug, and a sandwich or two for us. Was it spring break? Well, it was a day of quality family time. At the end of the day we felt an accomplishment; we hadn't spent a lot of money, we hadn't gotten into any kind of trouble, and we hadn't done anything of which to be ashamed. In fact, we were proud! We washed that rich black soil from our hands and from under our nails at the well; one person pumped, another washed. Mother had left the patch an hour earlier and when we went into the house for our meal there were good smells and good food and good fellowship. There was love and friendly comraderie.

Sometimes, about half way through the morning, Mr. Murkle would take a break (yes, a spring break) and play a few lively tunes on his mouth harp. He was good. The tunes were energizing and everyone enjoyed them.

Sometimes, my sister, or I would have to take a little hike to the little outdoor building which we called the Necessary Room. Then it was back to the fun and games of potato planting. We had a big patch because we always had a lot of mouths to feel. There were corn pickers in the fall, and in the spring, extra hired hands to help with the plowing, cultivating, and seeding.

The weather had to cooperate with the potato planting, of course. Some Good Fridays were too cold and blustery. In that case there was work for me in the house, and work in the shop for my brother. But we didn't escape planting potatoes just because of the weather, there were always Saturdays.

There was no escape to the Nintendo, or any stay-overs with friends, not even movies to see. But in the evenings there were books to read. After "supper" the whole family could be found reading by the light of the big kerosene lamp. Every Zane Grey, every Boy Scouts in various places, every Jack London book or every Harold Bell Wright book had been read and re-read. We were a reading family. We were taught that books were our friends. There might very well have been the sound of popcorn popping and the wonderful aroma of a big bowl set on the big dining room table. But no computer keys were heard, no CD's, no radio, and probably no phones ringing. The only time the phone rang in the evening was in case of an emergency; somebody's emergency. Anyone's emergency was everybody's emergency, and everyone helped everyone.

Spring Break? I believe I liked our kind best. It didn't cost great sums of money, it was with family in a fun situation, and we weren't doing anything for which we would have to be sorry. We wouldn't have to pay back anything, or worry about accidents, or make amends in any way. My parents didn't have to mortgage the old home to get the money for our "get-away" and we didn't have to explain to our parents why we were too busy to call.

Spring Break! Now, is it really to give the kids a break, or the parents?