Singleton tells of causing a commotion after bringing a live snake to school in the fourth grade

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “A snake in a pocket is nothing but trouble” was originally published in the June 20, 1991 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Country boys grow up differently from city boys. Being a country boy, I wasn’t a bit different from the others. I might have been a little hard-headed or ignorant, as one might have called it, but there were times when things would get hot and heavy. I could never understand why it had to be me.

When I was growing up, I was allowed by my parents to have various pets – as long as I didn’t bring them in the house or try to scare my sisters with them. I could just about anything for a pet, including a turtle, a frog and a green snake.

My inventory for pets at one time included a large chicken snake that stayed in our barn for several years. This snake, being well over five feet in length, helped in a great degree to keep the rat and mice population around the barn in check.

Once in a great while “Silent Will” could be found outside the barn, looking for hen nests where he might borrow a fresh egg or two. I would gather him up and give him a good tongue-lashing and return him to his place of dwelling.

I had on several occasions been allowed to bring a pet or two to school and show them off to my class, but only when our teacher would give her permission. There were several fourth-graders who weren’t fortunate enough to have pet frogs and such to play with. I had carried my pet frog “Ernest” and my pet gopher “Christmas” for my class to see (the gopher was given this name by my older sister for being so slow.)

Although I had never asked or been given permission to bring my pet snake to school, I didn’t give it much thought when this special girl wanted to see my pet green snake. A young man in the fourth grade sometimes falls deeply in love; when this happens, he will do almost anything for that brown-eyed beauty with the long pigtails.

So one morning before catching the school bus, I placed my pet green snake in the bib pocket of my overalls. I had carried “Slim” there in that pocket many times. He seemed to like being there and never tried once to get out.

My intentions were to wait until recess to show my pet to my admirer with the pigtails. And, of course, I would be glad to show off Slim to anyone else who might be interested in seeing him. After all, not everyone could boast of having a foot-long green snake for a pet.

With the school day starting and all the activity, I forgot all about Slim, who had up until now been very quiet. As luck would have it, I was called to the front of the classroom to recite a verse or two of a special poem that we had been instructed to memorize.

I was excited because I knew the poem by heart. As I stood beside the teacher, awaiting for instructions to start my recital, I couldn’t understand why she had turned such a deathly white color. I remembered saying to myself that I hoped she wasn’t sick or anything. I wanted to get on with my poem.

Then I realized that my teacher was looking directly at the pocket on the bib of my overalls. Her mouth was open as though she was about to scream. I looked down at my pocket. Low and behold, there was Slim with his head and about three inches of his body sticking out from under the flap of my pocket.

Without thinking, I unsnapped the flap over the pocket, reached in and pulled the green snake out so I could better situate him in the pocket. Slim curled as he always did around my wrist. As I reached over with my other hand to kinda wind him into a smaller bundle, I heard a shrill scream, then another and another.

I looked back at my teacher. She was not there. I looked a second time. She was standing on top of her desk, screaming at the top of her voice and pointing at my pet green snake. Her screams had been heard down the hallway, and in rushed four other teachers and the school principal. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so alarmed and upset. It wasn’t anything but a pet green snake.

From a safe distance, the principal ordered me to take my pet over to the far side of the classroom, next to the windows. Then, he and two others assisted my teacher in getting down from the top of her desk.

As she regained her color, the principal ordered me to take Slim outside in the school yard. As I made my way down the hallway, it seemed that everyone there was looking out the doors at me, walking down the hall with my pet wrapped around my wrist.

Mr. Johnson, the principal, ordered me to take my pet snake over to the tall grass at the edge of the playground and turn him loose. I was then ordered to report to his office. I still couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Slim was just a pet.

I wasn’t spanked because of the fact that I had been allowed on other occasions to bring my pets to school and show them to my class. I was, however, told in no uncertain terms to never, ever bring a snake to school.

I never did understand why the principal left the room I was in, nor did I understand the loud laughing from the other room of his office. He would then reappear, each time wiping his eyes as though he had been crying. I guess he hated seeing Slim go as bad as I did.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)