When I was in the first grade, there were 18 classrooms in the building--three for each grade, one through six.  My class had 63 children in it.  I don't know how we learned anything.  I don't know how the teacher kept her sanity.

If I multiply 63 children per room times 18 rooms, the number of kids was 1,134 children in the building.  The temperatures when school started in late August were always in the nineties, and there were no air conditioners.   Winter was better because you could keep your coat and mittens and hat on when the heaters didn't work--which was often.  Many days we were very, very cold.

There were two water fountains.  And.  There were two male and two female bathrooms in the building.  The water fountain ran tepid water and the bathrooms were horrible.  Dirty, backed up, and unbearable.  Everyone got in line twice a day to get a drink of water and go the the bathroom.  If you couldn't go on cue, or couldn't stand the conditions, tough luck.   The lines behind you were both long, and stretched down the hall.  Your class wouldn't get another chance for hours and hours.

I learned not to drink water all day, so that I wouldn't have to use those horrible bathrooms.  And each day I would run home--which was a mile away--hoping I would make it.  I was six years old.  I will never forget it.

But somehow, we learned to read.  We read about Dick and Jane, and Spot the dog.  We learned to write.  We learned to spell.  We learned to add and subtract.  It was expected.  So, we did it.  And we learned to endure.  1944.  Our country was at war.  Food was rationed as well as gas, tires, and anything else you needed.  Everyone did without.  Yet, I never heard anyone complain.

I am tough.  And so are all of the children of that generation.  The war children of 1938-1945.  We were children of the greatest generation.  And proud of it.