Our class years led from 1950 - 1959, and our little rural Dutch immigrant village of Borculo, with its one faithful Christian Reformed church, two grocery stores, lots of small farms, a gas station and car repair shop, a restaurant, a barbershop, and a lumber company, would have looked very progressive to the generations of settlers who had come before. Still, at that point, we lived on the edge of poverty in a post depression, post war, rural America. We learned the value of a dollar and that hard work would be rewarded. We trusted the adults around us to care for and protect us. We lived in a seemingly safe cocoon, unaware of the Cold War currents swirling around us.
Every day, we entered the three room school building that had already stood there for over 80 years. We climbed the rounded out stairs that had been shaped by the hundreds of students who had come before us. We smelled the oiled wood floors and checked the chalked notes on the tall blackboard wall. We put our coats and bags in our cubbies at the back of the classroom and went to our seats. It was a world of order and responsibility. School started with prayer, Bible reading and songs. Then classes began in a rotating order so that all subjects would be covered. Since each room had 2-3 classes in it, the teacher taught one grade at a time and give the others seat work to do. If you completed your work, you could read a book, draw or listen to the other class. In that way, we were often learning the curriculum of the next year or semester. It wasn’t until 6th grade that we learned History, Geography, and Civics, but we always had Bible classes and penmanship! Interestingly, our report cards stated the school goals for success right up front, but said nothing about the grade average necessary for passing into the next grade. Perhaps that is why many of us were apprehensive at the end of the year, about whether we had been promoted or not.
Obviously, in this busy classroom, chatting and noise could not be tolerated and often resulted in missed recesses of which we had three.
This was the greatest punishment of all, for no one wanted to miss recess! There were games to play like “Red Rover, Red Rover” and “Capture the Flag”. The boys played softball and soccer and our teacher, Mrs. Taylor often played with them. Because some of them (including John) wore heavy farm boots, she had black and blue marks all over her legs from missed kicks. The girls, meanwhile, liked constructing huts along the back fence by hollowing out the wild shrubs and bushes that grew there. There was also playground equipment which would be banned in present playgrounds. There was a merry-go-round that was an accident waiting to happen. It was scary to ride but we did it anyway for the thrill. And then there was the Giant Stride, perhaps better named the Giant Strike! Here a center pole had five chains coming down from the top to handles we held on to as we ran around the circle and flew thorough the air. One person could encircle all of us so that as we ran, he would quickly be lifted high in the air nearly to the height of the trees! Thankfully, no one ever let go, as far as I know.
Our curriculum was state based and whereas math and English were pretty static, history was changing all the time. Our textbooks were old, but the world was new. The Cold War had begun after the war’s end: McCarthyism, rumors of Russian spy invasions, Anti-Communist propaganda, the Cuban Revolution, Krushchev’s threats, nuclear weapons and subs - all of this was going on while most of us were oblivious to it. When we had basement air raid drills, they seemed meaningless. We saw Polio as a greater threat as we nibbled our sugar cubes laced with vaccine. We read our Weekly Reader which let in a bit of world news and the National Geographic that filled our tiny library, but meanwhile, at John’s house, the family was studying government, politics, and world events. His mom and dad had very little, but they respected education so much that they filled their house with books and debated topics of significance. And John loved it. He was quiet and shy, but very intelligent, and he had an insatiable curiosity about the world outside of ours. He couldn't wait to get out there. As the only Democratic family within miles, the Schampers sometimes debated their neighbors on issues, but always won - except when Ike Eisenhower beat Adlai Stevenson!
By the time we graduated in 1959, Sputnik had been launched and the formation of the Viet
Cong had begun. Our class was divided when some went to Zeeland Public High School and others went to Holland Christian High School. After graduating from ZHS, John wanted to join the Air Force, but he was rejected because of problems with his feet (he walked on his toes). His excellent record at Zeeland HS won him a scholarship to Michigan State where he earned a degree in Agriculture and Economics. From there he went to to the University of Wisconsin where he earned a doctorate in U.S Government. At that point he was recruited by the Department of Agriculture to go to third world countries to assist them in improving their agricultural processes and their banking systems. He worked in many countries in Africa, Europe and the Middle East. While he was in the Congo for a conference, he met his future wife Paule, a French diplomat working for NATO providing food and relief to refugees. They had much in common. After their marriage, they lived in Paris as a home base while he traveled. Later, they had a son who is now a college professor. During this time, John became fluent in French, which served him well in the next stage of his work.
John retired early from his diplomatic work but then accepted several private contract jobs which took him to many political hotspots including Iraq and Ukraine. He was always secretive about his work, but this fit his quiet nature perfectly.
It was in Paris early this year that he was overtaken by two severe illnesses and passed away quickly. He had led an exceptional life, but it was born of his humble past, his strong ambition and the influence of so many good people. The Borculo School and its teachers, the church and its pastors, concerned parents and even the veterans who had seen the world as it really was, all knew that a momentum had to be created to propel students to move ahead and create a better world.
This same influence benefited all the members of this class. We now include two pastors, a business owner, skilled workers, a Special Education Aide, a nurse, a school administrator, a PhD. professor and textbook writer, a prison manager(now sadly deceased) an English teacher and, of course, lots of mothers and fathers who know the power of teaching and mentorship.
When we graduated, classmate Bob Barton wrote a class prophesy for us. He missed the mark on most of us (sorry, Bob), but he was right in his final words; “ Even if our prophecy does not come completely true, we feel confident that every one of the members of our class will become honest, hard-working citizens and will truly make their parents proud of them.”
This was certainly true of John.
Rest in Peace, dear friend.