“Be True to Your School…or Else”

It was nearly 40 years ago, but I remember those events like it was only yesterday. Ah, yes—the two times I ever got in trouble in school.  Both were elementary school infractions, once in second grade, the other in third.  In each situation, I was caught laughing at a classmate’s funny comment, told to me while our teacher was in the midst of instructing. I straightened up and flew right after that.

The first incident was certainly understandable, as another student was flopping all over kids in our reading group.  This incident sent me and a cohort to the office for an inquisition from our principal who asked us the age-old question: ”What was so funny?” We made it through unscathed, and best of all, without further implications such as a call home. The takeaway was more the “principle” of being sent to the principal, which was a scary situation–one I didn’t want to experience again.

A year later, in math class, I found myself distracted and daydreaming from my teacher’s lesson.  Not that this was an isolated event, as the subject of Math would always be an Achilles heel, never quite resonating with me—save for the fact that I am married to a high school math teacher. The day’s instruction centered on subtraction, but specifically on borrowing when taking larger numbers from lesser numbers. Today, this is known better as “regrouping.” Our teacher may have been gifted in Math, but apparently not in English as she could not pronounce the word “borrow” correctly. She repeatedly kept saying “borry,” as in “Since the 5 below is greater than the 2 above, you have to borry from the first (tens) column, which will make this a 12.”

All was going fine until my friend Johann turned to me and whispered: “Chris, can I borry a pencil so I can write this down?”  I tried my best to hold in the laughter, but a chuckle snuck out of me, and Johann as well. As these life situations usually play out, the room at that moment had gone immediately silent, thus amplifying our laughter, and hence, our impending punishment. Mrs. G. stopped teaching and proceeded slowly to the back of the class towards us, pointing at us defiantly with her ruler. She used this “ancient” tool of measurement as a pointer, in the same vein an orchestra conductor uses a baton.

Instead of sending us to the office, she chose her own brand of vigilante justice for our unkind interruption and disrespect. We were directed to kneel on the cold, hard concrete floor. The surface was polished which made it even more difficult to keep balanced in Sears brand “Toughskin” denim jeans, which were the pantaloons of choice in 1977. We had to serve out our sentence for nearly 20 minutes until the end of class.  Let me tell you, I was rehabilitated, and vowed never to disrespect another teacher again.  I also never complained about having to kneel in (Catholic) Church from that time forward, appreciating the modern convenience of padded kneelers.

The reason I share these school memories of "pride and punishment" is to introduce a local news story from October, 1894 which caught my eye. It’s quite shocking, yet entertaining at the same time in a strange way. Like so many things in the study of history, you have to look at certain events, actions and reactions in context with the times in which they occur. With no further adieu, I present this clipping from the Frederick Daily News, October 4, 1894 edition: 

Adam Roser

The "hunted" in this story was a 12 year-old named Clayton Warner. The "hunter," Professor Adam Roser, was born in 1851 in Adams County, Pennsylvania. Soon after, his family made its way to Frederick County and New Midway. He would receive his own early schooling here before embarking on a teaching career around the year 1876. Ironically, I found a reference to Roser in the December 13, 1903 edition of the Frederick Daily News in a weekly section called Local Logic: expressions of people picked up by diligent reporters.  The following, written ten months prior to the “dinnertime debacle,” is a quote from Mr. Roser:

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One week earlier (December 7, 1893), Roser had taken charge of the North Market Street public school. He had previously been employed at the Libertytown School.  His new school building was no picnic as it was described as having a dilapidated interior and was not much more than a barn. Conditions were so bad that Arbor Day exercises for 1895 would be canceled because the staff was so embarrassed by the conditions of the school.  A new structure would be built on this location in 1896, and became the home of the Boys' High School. (This would later serve as an early home for Frederick Community College as well. Today, it is readying for a new usage as mixed-income workforce housing.)

The "new" North Market Street School, Frederick, MD (suitable for Arbor Day exercises)

Jeff Spicoli, a pizza, and Mr. Hand from "Fast Times at Ridgemont High."

Now before you jump all over Professor Roser for his unprofessionalism and obvious lapse in good judgment by “crossing the line,” I want you to think for a moment of the dealings between Mr. (Arnold) Hand and difficult student Jeff Spicoli, resident surfer/burnout/dude, in the 1982 cinema classic “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” 

​Mr. Hand practiced incredible patience with Spicoli when the latter tried to usurp “his" (Mr. Hand’s) time.  Could there be an ounce of justification for Mr. Roser "losing his cool" back in 1894? Please keep this in mind and put yourself in Mr. Roser's "educator shoes" for a moment.

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I went in search of Clayton Warner and found that he made headlines in early March, 1903.  Apparently Warner and a pal decided to burglarize some merchants in the early morning hours of Sunday, March 1, 1903, nine years after Roser accosted Warner at the dinner table. Clayton Warner would be duly arrested, and it appears his parents refused to post bail.

Frederick Daily News (March 4, 1903)

As for Adam Roser, he had a storied, but apparently regretful, career in teaching.  The educator remained a longtime resident of Woodsboro and vicinity, and taught in the public schools of the county for nearly fifty years, retiring in 1926. He died in 1934 at the age of 82.

Mr. Roser is buried in Woodsboro's Mount Hope Cemetery with wife Eliza J. (Delaplaine) Roser. May they both rest in peace, especially from any lingering spirit in the form of little Clayton Warner.

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