Boys would be boys, even during long cold winters in 19th century Kingfield.

In the winter of 1906, an older man calling himself JCW wrote about growing up in Kingfield in the mid-1800s, and his memories formed a series of articles for the Farmington Chronicle.

As is often the case with journalists of the day, JCW never revealed his full name with his stories so we can only refer to him by his initials.

He observed that, “Northern Maine is an extremely cold country during the winter months” and that without diversions like outdoor sports, flirting and mischief-making the season would have been “monotonous.”

According to JCW, schooling in those days was not rigorous.

Students attended for two-and-a-half months in the winter and found plenty of time for activities other than study.

He recalls lunch time dances when the teacher was gone, with someone appointed as lookout to make sure the festivities ceased before the instructor returned.

“Spelling schools,” which we would probably refer to as spelling bees, were popular evening events.

What he remembered most fondly about these was not the educational value, but the nighttime walk back from the school house, when boys would sometimes get up the courage to ask permission to escort a girl home.

“The largest boys took turns in building the fires at the schoolhouse,” JCW recalled.

And even when forced to do this bit of work, they would make a competition out of building the warmest, longest-burning fire.

JCW recalled outdoor activities like building snow forts, which the boys pretended were built “for defense against the native Americans.”

After building the forts, he reported, they would participate in “an engagement with snowballs.”

Coasting was an activity for both sexes, and JCW reported that the boys would “draw the sled of one’s favorite,” making the event another opportunity for courting.

Boys sometimes made mischief, such as carving initials in their school desks, and they were physically punished for such rule-breaking.

The author defends this approach and observes that “those who were whipped the most proved in after life to be most competent.”

In fact, the author looks kindly upon those mischievous boys: parents, he said, “should not despair of the future of their unruly sons. Goody goody’ boys seldom amount to much when matured.”

Luann Yetter teaches writing at the University of Maine at Farmington. Additional research by UMF student Danielle LeBlanc.