I don't remember much about the rest of that year except that my friend and I went to Third Street Baptist Church and our class was in a small cramped room. At least it was for 25-30 yunguns 

Sandwiches were brought in for lunch. Or it may be that  we had to take our  lunch  and milk was furnished. I ain't sure about that.  That was a long time ago, the year the 1955 Chevy was created, and Elvis started to get hot.
....

Some of us went to  Northern Heights Elementary for the sixth grade.  If you got to school early enough you could get a couple of hot bisquits. The lunch room ladies would bring 'em out on a big tray and those bisquits went like hotcakes.

Northern  Heights  was a two story school on Sixth St. North  where the Crisp Regional  Medical  Center is  now.  I occasionally see a movie or a TV show that reminds me of  that  school. You know, with the halls and stairs and stuff. It was the only school I have ever been in that had an upstairs.

My 6th grade teacher related to us that while she was teaching at O'Neal  one of her students had given her an Ivey plant . She had it for several years and had pruned and cared for it over the years and loved it like a pet. She said that during the school year she would keep it in the corner near the door and had the vine itself hung over the black board and around over the windows and across the top of the coat closets at the back of the room and back up towards the door. That's how long that vine had grown. When O'Neal burned, her Ivey had burned too. It nearly broke her heart. 

As much as I admired and respected my 6th grade teacher, I remember being upset and disappointed when one day a little redhaired girl needed to go to the restroom. She repeatedly asked to do so, only to be denied permission. My desk was in the row to her left and about 3  back from her. I could see her starting  to skirm around, again asking to go to the restroom only to have the teacher to tell her that she should have gone before coming to class. Well, you know what happened. Yep. And I sat there feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment and sadness while watching the puddle spread out around her desk flowing slowly back toward my desk. The little girl put her head on her desk and cried.

I assumed they were going to the restroom when she and the teacher left the room. All of us became kinda vocal, expressing our anger over the situation but we all hushed when the teacher returned without the little girl.

I don't know what, if anything, was ever done about that situation. I'm not sure about it, but I don't think the little girl ever came back to school. If she didn't, I don't blame her. I do not recall ever seeing her again. I would have had to find another planet.