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Add My StoryI grew up in Kansas City, MO, and was 6 years old and in first grade. That particular day, our teacher, Mrs. Wyatt, had about five of us sitting at a round table near the back of the classroom, leading us in a reading lesson. We were going around the table taking turns reading a paragraph from our storybook. Mrs. Wyatt was sitting immediately to my left, and I was first to read. I had just finished my portion and the boy on my right had just started his, when the door to the classroom, which I was facing directly, came flying open. A second-grade teacher from down the hall came in and walked up to Mrs. Wyatt’s left side in about four or five very quick strides, bent down, and whispered in her left ear. In one simultaneous motion, Mrs. Wyatt jerked back in her chair, turned and looked wide-eyed at the other teacher, and clamped her hand over her mouth.
The second-grade teacher silently mouthed the words, ‘he’s dead.’ Mrs. Wyatt slowly slumped back in her chair, put her hand over her eyes, and slowly shook her head back and forth. Of course, none of us had any idea what was going on. Just then our principal came on the intercom. I don’t remember all of his words, but he said the President of the United States had been assassinated in Dallas, TX, that afternoon, and the 36th President of the United States was Lyndon B. Johnson. At that age, many of us did not know what the word assassinated meant, and someone asked Mrs. Wyatt about it. She was still sitting in the chair, still with her hand over her eyes and shaking her head. After a moment, she took her hand away and fixed us with what I can only describe as a blank stare. She regained her composure somewhat and said assassinated meant an important person had been killed; in this case, the President.
I asked her, ‘Was it President Kennedy, Mrs. Wyatt?’
At that time of my life, I had heard of President Kennedy and had been aware of his afternoon press conferences occasionally interrupting cartoons; not that I knew what a press conference was. However, I was a little confused because Truman and Eisenhower were still alive at this time, and I had a vague recollection of hearing occasional references to them. They were, of course, referred to as President. (most likely Former also, although I evidently did not pick up on that) So the question I asked Mrs. Wyatt was for clarification, because the Principal Mr. Jaimes had only said ‘President’ not Kennedy. I don’t remember exactly what my cognizance was of the Presidency at that point in my life, but I may have thought all three acted as President, except Kennedy was on TV more, possibly meaning he handled most of the job’s main duties.
Mrs. Wyatt responded, ‘Yes, it was President Kennedy.’
There was a further pause of a moment or two; no one said anything. Mrs. Wyatt finally took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, ‘Let’s continue on with our reading.’ The boy next to me began to read again. I looked at Mrs. Wyatt. She was staring down at her book, attempting to follow the lesson, but she had a look in her eyes that showed her thoughts were far away. I don’t remember how long we continued with the lesson after that, probably not more than 10 or 15 minutes at the most, but school was eventually dismissed early. This happened on a Friday, and President Johnson declared Monday the 25th as a National Day of Mourning. So of course there was no school.
I watched the funeral procession and ceremonies with my mother and sister, and of course had a lot of questions. There are other memories of that weekend, of course, as it was the first time in my life I was aware of an event of national significance. The gravity of the event, the reaction of those around me that I looked up to, the fact that the TV coverage was non-stop, all served to fix these events in my young mind for all time. It was the point in my life where, because the event was so momentous, my interest in politics, history, and news of the world in general began.
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