Essay | A Teacher, a Rooster and an Outhouse

FILLMORE COUNTY – Back in the good old days, it was the custom of our school district families to entertain the teacher from our one room schoolhouse – Liberty School – for an evening during the school year.

Some would have her over for supper and then take her back to the home where she stayed. Others would put her up for the night in the spare bedroom.

My mother chose this second option when it was our turn to entertain the teacher, Miss Doreen Scheevel, so we all had to pitch in and get things in shape before she arrived. It was the early 1940s, and I was seven or eight years old.

This red outhouse is similar to those used by farm families before modern plumbing made its way into Fillmore County. (Photo by John Torgrimson)

Remember being a kid? Sometimes you did something because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but later you couldn’t remember why you did it?

Well, at some time that day, my brother, Les, and I caught an old red rooster that had been running around the yard for years, and we put him in the outhouse. The outhouse was our only toilet – indoor bathroom facilities were still a thing of the future.

Supper with the teacher went well. We all sat around and visited for a while afterward, as was the custom. Then it was time for bed.

As our guest, the teacher was the first one out to the privy. She walked into the darkened outhouse and was about to sit down when the old rooster let out a squawk. Frightened half to death, she let out a scream that we heard all the way into the house.

The rooster squawked again; she screamed again. Squawk, scream. Squawk scream.

My parents didn’t know what was the trouble, so my dad ran out to see if he could rescue her. I had forgotten all about the rooster.

When all the commotion finally settled down, I got a very stern talking to. But I remember the scolding would have been much worse had there not been a guest present.

© 2005 Nine Dragon Press. Reprinted with permission.