My Teacher Encouraged Me To Shoot At An Indian

I'm not kidding and everyone was cool with it! But it's not as bad as it sounds, or maybe it is.

Let’s take a trip down memory lane; kind of a racist memory lane. What do you say?

I grew up near Orlando in the 70’s and 80’s. Gotta give credit to Disney (when it was still family friendly) for making Orlando what it is today.

But, back then I only remember a few roads in town that had more than two lanes. If you wanted to go east or west and were poor you took Highway 50. If you were rich you took the East West Expressway (they tried to keep it simple for us) toll road. Today the East West Expressway is called the 408.

If you wanted to go to the beach you’d hop on the Bee Line, not because it went to a bee hive, but I guess because it was a straight shot to the beach and bees fly in straight lines, of course (didn’t try to keep that one simple). Apparently, someone figured out it’d be easier on the tourists if instead of naming it for an insect that has nothing to do with anything we just named it for where it goes, so today it’s the Beach Line or the 528. Makes sense!

If you wanted to go north and south, you’d hop on I-4 which technically ran east and west (and still does), or 436 which runs north and south for a few miles and then also turns east and west. Good work city planners! Thank God for Disney!

Rabbit Hole: Anyone else remember when you’d have to have tickets for every ride you went on at Disney World? You had your A - E ticket books and you had to provide a ticket before you got on a ride. The cool rides like Space Mountain took higher value tickets than things like the People Mover or Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. I still have nightmares about almost getting hit by a train on that one!

I went to Columbia Elementary School, which was technically in Orlando, but most of my classmates rode buses or horses in from Bithlo and Christmas.

Bithlo is a town you’d imagine when you read the word “Bithlo”. It has a rich history of junk yards and Speedworld, a racetrack that to this day you can watch guys, who I’m certain all live in Bithlo, race school buses on a figure-eight track in the annual “Night of Destruction”.

It’s in their blood! I can vividly remember hanging out before school, watching other boys (I didn’t live in Bithlo) do Stomper pulls. That’s where you take your Stomper Truck, connected it back to back of your archrival’s Stomper Truck with a paperclip, flip the switch to start the wheel’s turing, and let ‘er rip. Once they were placed on the ground, what you had was virtually a tug-o’-war between two pieces of plastic powered by AA batteries. Occasionally, you’d get an electrician’s kid who figured out how to connect a 9-volt to his truck. Everyone hated that kid!

And then there’s Christmas, and this is where my “shooting an Indian” story really begins to take shape. Back when I was in elementary school, the town of Christmas had a population of less than 1,000 people and it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone and where everyone could walk into the cemetery and quickly find their last name on multiple headstones.

Incidentally, Christmas is also the town people with way too much time on their hands flock to in early December to mail their Christmas cards. They do it so the postmark has the word Christmas on it. It makes sense, you know, just in case the Santa stamp and the Christmas card inside are overlooked. It’s probably totally worth the gas money.

But I digress. You’re probably wondering how Christmas got its name. It’s really as simple as you can imagine. In 1837, a group of Army Soldiers fighting in the 2nd Seminole War (because one wasn’t enough), showed up on a plot of land and thought, this is as good a spot as any to build a fort.

“What should we name our fort?” One soldier sarcastically said to his buddy as they chopped down their 21st tree of the day. This new fort was just one of about 200 forts like it built in Florida, so I’m pretty sure this soldier was tired and kind of at a loss for any new names. You can understand his sarcasm.

The buddy, not catching the sarcasm, said, “What if we name it something that sounds really nice, so when the Indians come, they won’t be able to shoot at us, because they’ll be in a good mood?”

The first soldier (the sarcastic one) was like, “Yeah, right!”

But then the second solder (the one who doesn’t get sarcasm) said, “No. Hear me out!” He started going into the psychology of why his idea could actually lead to the end of the 2nd Seminole War.

But the first soldier wasn’t having it. He was tired and none of the psychology stuff made sense to him because he was more of a math guy. “You know what we should name it?” he said.

But thankfully, before he could say anything (because it was gonna be really rude and probably vulgar), the Colonel strode by on his horse. “How’s it coming fellas?” he said.

The second solder (the one who doesn’t get sarcasm) came to attention and said, “Great, sir! We were just cutting down these trees and talking about what to name the fort.”

The Colonel chuckled to himself, “Oh, we already named it like 20 minutes ago.”

To which the first guy (the sarcastic one) replied, “Of course you did!!!”

Then the second guy piped up, “What’s the name, Colonel?”

“It’s Fort Christmas,” the Colonel said, “because, today’s Christmas.”

Both guys replied in unison, “Today’s Christmas?!” They had no idea what day it was! And, while both guys said “Today’s Christmas?!” at the same time, the first guy said it kind of sarcastically with the emphasis on Christmas, and added, “Ok. Whatever!”

In any case, the second guy (the one who doesn’t get sarcasm), was happy with the name because it kind of went along with his whole argument. What Indian could attack a fort with a name like Christmas? He actually thought the name Fort Santa or Fort Rudolph or even Fort Mistletoe would serve the purpose better, but the last thing he wanted to do was get in an argument with the Colonel.

So, that’s how Fort Christmas got its name.

Fast forward about 140 years, and that’s where my story and Fort Christmas’ story intersect. I was in the 4th grade. That’s the grade you learn Florida history, if you live in Florida. So naturally, Fort Christmas was on the list of things we studied, but not just studied; we got to experience it firsthand!

Every year, all the classes in 4th grade would go to Fort Christmas and spend the night in the fort. Not only did we spend the night, but we had some time during the day to go to the Cemetery, where I got to watch all my friends find their last names.

Now, this was back in the early 1980s, so I don’t remember much, but I do remember 3 things.

1. We made butter. I remember sitting on a ledge inside the fort and we passed a Mason jar full of milk back and forth down the line. Each of us would shake it for a minute or so before we handed it to the next kid. I feel like we did this for about two hours as the milk got thicker. Some guy who worked at the fort explained what was happening inside the jar, but I don’t remember anything he said. All I know is that when we finished, I think there was butter in the jar and I think we each got to stick our finger in and get a little taste (This was way before Covid was invented). I can tell you, that two hours was so worth it!

2. We slept in tents. If I’m being honest, I can’t fully remember this, but I’m fairly certain we pitched tents (I always get very nervous saying that out loud, especially when I’m reading the Bible to a group of people) in the inside of the fort when it was time to go to sleep.

3. WE SHOT AT AN INDIAN!

Y’all, this is the main thing I remember, and thank God it is. If all I remembered was the butter, this overnight field trip would have been a complete bust. But, I vividly recall waking up to the sound of what we all thought Indians sounded like back in the 1980s. You know, the sound you create when you make a somewhat high-pitched noise and rapidly and repeatedly slap yourself in the mouth. (I’m trying to figure out how to type that sound but it’s impossible - I challenge you to give it a shot and type it in the comments!)

So, we wake up to that sound and the shrill screams of my teacher, “There are Indians attacking us!”

What the heck!!!??? We all jumped up and ran out of our tents. As we looked up on the ledge where we had made the butter, there were now muskets leaning up against the walls of the fort. I mean, why not?

I remember me and my buddies all jumped up on the ledge, grabbed guns, and began looking through the holds cut in the wood. Wouldn’t you know? Sure enough there was an Indian out there. He was wearing feathers, making that sound, and running from tree to tree. He also looked suspiciously like the butter guy!

As soon as we saw him, we all put our muskets through the holes we were looking through and started firing. Don’t worry. These weren’t real guns. That would have been so inappropriate, to shoot at an Indian with real guns! Come on! Thank goodness this was just all pretend which made it totally fine! I mean what’s not wrong with a bunch of kids grabbing fake guns (without orange tips mind you), and shooting at a pretend Indian making pretend Indian sounds while wearing a headdress that probably wasn’t even a Seminole Indian headdress. Did they wear headdresses? No way to know!

And that’s the story of how I was encouraged to shoot an Indian by my 4th grade teacher, God rest her soul! (I’m not sure if she’s dead, but that was a long time ago, so probably best we just assume.)

I love thinking about that story because it illustrates how much has changed just in my lifetime (some for the better and some for the worse), and let’s me say, “Back when I was a kid” to my children. The best stories are these stories because they’ll never happen again, like paying Chubby Bunny at Young Life Club. It’s all long gone!

So, what’s your favorite “You wouldn’t believe what we did when we were kids,” story you can remember. Humor us and put it in the comments section. Can’t wait to read them and remember yesteryear along with you!