by David Cross and Al Gibson

former students

I just don’t know what would be sufficient to say about the woman who taught me to read.

Sometimes children just take to reading at a very young age. Others, such as me, have a harder time getting started. When I began the first grade at Albany Elementary School, (Cross in 1963 – Gibson in 1964), I could not read. However, Dorlese Shelley, with the help of “Tip” and “Mitten”, taught me that opening a book was opening a door to a brave new world.

Dorlese Shelley died this past week at 88. She was the quintessential first grade teacher. She had taught in the rural schools of Clinton County, including Willen and Glidewell schools for several years, but in the mid-1950s, she moved to the Albany Graded School (for those of you younger than 30, that was a part of what later was known as the Old High School). Then in 1962, the new Albany Elementary was completed on the Burkesville Road, and “Miss Shelley” as she was known to her students, moved out there with the other primary teachers, including fellow first grade teachers Miss Noreen Sell (still going strong herself) and Miss Lucille Gibson. There were a lot of “Misses” who taught in elementary school.

I can remember a lot about Miss Shelley’s first grade. I had been to Kindergarten, back in the day when the Albany Women’s Club operated it at the VFW Building and Adele Lawson was the teacher. This first grade was much different – this was real “books”. We had a lunch room, and recess and everything. I thought the sixth graders at the far end of the hall were so big. I remember thinking Miss Shelley was so old (she was 36).

Dorlese Shelley taught us to be nice to each other, to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, not to cut line, to clean up the messes we made and how to hold a pencil (most of us didn’t know how to do that either). She also stressed the importance of not chewing on your wooden pencils, less you ran the risk of contracting the dreaded ailment “pencilitis”.

If we misbehaved, we would receive the ultimate punishment – she would bend back the palm of your hand and take her ruler and embarrass us by administering a bit of discipline. Miss Shelley would administer that dose of palm stinging to any student who crossed the line – boy or girl, it didn’t matter. I remember the first time I witnessed this, the offender was one of the girls in our first grade class, and the tears flowed and her head stayed down on her desk for what seemed like an eternity. I’m sure I vowed to never end up being on the wrong end of that experience – but that didn’t last long either. In fact, I might have been the student with the reddest set of palms when the year was over.

Even as an adult, you were careful not do anything to upset her, or you might get your hand smacked by that intimidating ruler she might pull out. I now wonder if she carried a ruler around in her purse as long as she was able, just like some folks want to carry a pistol whether they need one or not.

I can’t remember that many of the names in my class, but I can remember at least four of them became teachers themselves. I remember Miss Shelley would read us a Bible story every day. Too bad they can’t do that now.

We had a great school. It was nearly brand new. Mr. Rodell McFall was the principal and all of the town kids went there and some children from out in the county whose parents wanted their child to attend the consolidated school

I remember the November afternoon that Miss Shelley was called outside and she came in and told us President Kennedy had been shot; then just before school was let out, that he had died. We knew President Kennedy. He was the leader of our country. He had a little girl our age, and a little boy. I remember all the grown-ups being sad. I also remember when death visited the home of one of our classmates. This death stuff didn’t seem right to a first grader.

But back to Miss Shelley. She was so devoted to us. It was clear to her that teaching was more than a job, and she was passionate about it. No wonder so many school teachers were influenced by her. She taught for over 40 years, into the 1990s. Then for many more years she was the substitute that everyone looked forward to seeing, as she would bring in a little gift to the children each day.

In later years, when she would see one of her former students, you would see a smile come across her face, and she would take you back to the first grade immediately, and she was again “Miss Shelley”, it didn’t matter if you were six feet tall or weighed over 200 pounds, you suddenly felt like a first grader again.

Miss Shelley wasn’t a frequent visitor to the Clinton County News office, but she stopped in once or twice a year – at least when her subscription needed to be renewed. It didn’t matter what I was doing at the time, when I heard her voice, everything was dropped and I headed to the front counter to spend a few minutes with Miss Shelley. I remember thinking every time that it was remarkable how far I had to bend down just to give her that hug.

On what was likely one of her last visits to the office, as I was chatting with her, I glanced down and noticed a wooden ruler laying next to the pens, pencils and calculator – a ruler is a common tool in this business. I picked it up and immediately had her attention, as I gave my own palm a quick slap, producing a loud popping noise that brought back memories to both of us. “Remember that” I asked with a grin and she quickly replied “I’m so sorry” and just as quick I looked right into those little eyes with a smile on my face and said – “No – thank you” There was another hug and a big laugh.

In her later years I remember seeing her with her boyfriend (Miss Shelley has a boyfriend? – later her husband) Jim Stockton in a big white Cadillac convertible, with the top down, cruising through Albany, her hair blowing underneath that scarf, with a big smile on her face. To me, she looked like she was having as much fun as a first grader at recess.

On one visit, I made a comment about how great her car looked as I peered out our office window at the white “boat” sitting out front, Jim perched patiently behind the wheel waiting on Miss Shelley to finish her business inside. She urged me to go on out and look it over because Jim loved to show it off. He did, from front to back, pointing out the fine, red leather interior more than once. Then Miss Shelley came back outside, and in an instant, they were back on the road.

Albany was a great place for kids to grow up in those days, there were a lot of common denominators amongst us, and Miss Shelley was one of those for many. She loved every student that she ever taught and we all loved her, too. It took a long time to realize how special she was.