Quarantined? Does that mean I don't have to go to school? "Yes," said my mother, "that was what Dr Kane told me and for at least two weeks." Wow! Two weeks off in early March 1952. The first March Break? Ten weeks or so ago I'd turned 10 years old, and I liked and excelled at school, with placements no lower than 3rd in all the grades I had attended. Representing Mundy Pond Salvation Army school in "Spelling Bees" on CJON, or was if VOCM? It was one or the other radio stations, TV not having yet arrived at our home. But I remember the last Bee I represented Mundy Pond on the radio, a memory that haunts my dreams to this day sixty-odd years later, when I could have won for our school if I hadn't become tongue tied and forgot how to spell one of the simplest words in the dictionary, "Animal." To say I felt beastly at the time would be a misnomer. But spelling bees and all other school things were far from my mind at that time in my life. All I thought about was the things that I could do, the places I could go like the public library on Duckworth St. (if memory serves me right) and a zillion other things that "ten year old and barefoot" boys did in 1952. The next morning my whole world fell apart when Mom said to me, "Where do you think you are going? We are under quarantine and you cannot go outside. "But Ann (my 6 year old sister) has Scarlet Fever, not me, so why do I have to stay in the house?" Mom told me that everyone but Dad had to stay inside during the quarantine period, so go find something to do. I cannot say with accuracy what I did to fill those two weeks but one thing I succinctly remember that I did. That was learn how to play Checkers. When my Dad came home from work, usually around 6:00 p.m. and supper was finished, my dad would get the checker board out and he would teach me how to play. I remember to this day my anxiousness while whiling away my day until supper was over and Dad and I could start playing checkers. The Saturday night before our quarantine ended I sat down with the checker boar as usual but my Dad picked up the board and all the buttons and placed them all in their box. Bridging on tears I asked Dad, "What did I do?" With the somberest voice I ever had heard from my Dad in all of my ten years he said, "Randolph, my son, when the teacher cannot beat the student it is time for the teacher to quit." My first "Quarantine" taught me a lesson that I will never forget. Perhaps this Quarantine will teach me another and maybe someone else will also be taught a value to never be forgotten.   Submitted By: Randolph Toope