7 After-School Chores Every ’50s Kid Dreaded (And 7 Rituals They Couldn’t Wait For)
Growing up in the 1950s meant balancing work and play in ways today’s kids might find unimaginable. After the school bell rang, children returned to homes where responsibilities awaited alongside cherished pastimes. While some after-school activities brought groans and foot-dragging, others sparked pure joy that made homework bearable and chores worthwhile.
1. Taking Out the Coal Ashes
Nothing said “welcome home from school” quite like the gritty task of emptying coal furnace ashes. My hands would get black as midnight despite Mom’s insistence on wearing gloves.
The fine dust somehow found its way everywhere—up nostrils, under fingernails, and even into school books. Coal heating might have kept homes toasty during harsh winters, but for us kids, it meant daily battles with those infernal metal ash buckets.
2. Hand-Washing the Dinner Dishes
Automatic dishwashers? Not in our neighborhood! Dinner cleanup meant rolling up sleeves and plunging hands into increasingly grimy water as plate after plate emerged from the suds.
The real torture was saving those crusty pots for last, when the water had cooled to a lukewarm soup of food particles. Dad’s special rule—”You cook, you don’t clean”—meant us kids rotated this dreaded duty while Mom enjoyed her after-dinner coffee.
3. Bringing in Firewood
Winter afternoons meant trudging through snow to the woodpile, arms straining under loads of split logs. Splinters were an occupational hazard that no amount of careful handling seemed to prevent.
The family woodstove demanded constant feeding, turning kids into reluctant lumberjacks. “Enough for morning too!” Mom would call as I made my third freezing trip to the woodshed. My mittens, perpetually damp from snow, offered little protection against rough bark.
4. Polishing the Family’s Shoes
Sunday mornings began Saturday nights with the dreaded shoe polish ritual. Every pair lined up like soldiers awaiting inspection—Dad’s work shoes, Mom’s church heels, and my scuffed school oxfords.
Newspaper spread across the kitchen floor became my workspace as I dabbed polish, buffed leather, and inevitably stained my fingers black. The smell of Kiwi polish still transports me back to those evenings.
5. Beating the Rugs
Before vacuum cleaners became household staples, rugs required good old-fashioned beatings. We’d haul heavy wool rugs to the clothesline where they’d hang like oversized bats awaiting punishment.
Armed with a wicker beater, I’d whack rhythmically while dust clouds erupted with each strike. The neighbors could set their watches by the Thursday afternoon percussion concert. My arms would ache something fierce, but Mom insisted a properly beaten rug would last decades longer.
6. Ironing Dad’s Handkerchiefs
Disposable tissues existed, but no self-respecting father carried them! Dad’s cotton handkerchiefs needed precise ironing—corners squared perfectly, no wrinkles tolerated.
The ironing board stood taller than me for years, making this chore awkward and slightly dangerous. One tiny lapse in concentration could mean a singed finger or worse. Mother’s exacting standards meant redoing any handkerchief that didn’t meet inspection.
Fifteen minutes of careful pressing for something Dad would crumple in his pocket immediately!
7. Delivering Newspapers
My paper route wasn’t just an after-school job—it was a family obligation. Rain, shine, or blizzard, those Evening Standards had to reach porches by 5 PM sharp.
The canvas bag grew heavier with each block, cutting into my shoulder as I pedaled furiously. Dogs seemed to sense delivery days, lying in wait behind picket fences.
Mrs. Henderson on Maple Street expected her paper folded lengthwise and tucked precisely between her screen door handles—heaven help me if it slipped to the porch!
8. Gathering Around the Radio
Before television dominated American homes, the radio was our window to imagination. Homework finished hastily so we could crowd around our Philco console for “The Lone Ranger” or “The Shadow.”
Dad claimed the armchair while we kids sprawled on the carpet, chins propped on hands. Mom would bring popcorn on special nights, its buttery scent mingling with the radio’s warm glow.
Those disembodied voices created more vivid pictures than any TV screen later would. We’d shush each other frantically when static threatened our precious connection.
9. Soda Fountain Visits
Nickels burning holes in our pockets, we’d race to Simmons Drugstore after Friday tests. The soda jerk—usually a high school senior we idolized—would spin on his stool to take our orders with theatrical flair.
Cherry Cokes for the girls, chocolate phosphates for us boys. The marble counter felt cool under elbows as we shared school gossip and weekend plans.
Those chrome-trimmed stools seemed designed for spinning contests when Mr. Simmons wasn’t looking. One perfect hour of freedom before heading home—worth a week of arithmetic drills!
10. Comic Book Trading Sessions
Wednesday afternoons transformed ordinary front porches into high-stakes trading floors. Dog-eared copies of Superman and Archie changed hands with the seriousness of Wall Street transactions.
“I’ll give you two Betty and Veronicas for that Batman.” Negotiations could last hours, with values fluctuating based on condition and rarity. Parents never understood our reverence for these ten-cent treasures. Careful readers were preferred trading partners—returned comics with torn pages faced immediate devaluation.
11. Roller Skating in the Street
Metal skate keys hung around our necks like precious medals as we clattered down sidewalks after homework. Those adjustable metal skates clamped onto ordinary shoes transformed us into speed demons.
Cars were rare enough that parents allowed street skating until dinner bells rang. The satisfying rumble of steel wheels on concrete announced our gang’s arrival blocks away. Skinned knees were badges of honor, not cause for tears.
12. Building Model Airplanes
Kitchen tables transformed into miniature aircraft factories as soon as homework finished. The intoxicating smell of model glue (no one worried about fumes back then!) filled the room while I hunched over tiny plastic pieces.
Dad would occasionally offer expertise, having built real planes during the war. Hours disappeared as B-17 bombers and P-51 Mustangs took shape under patient fingers. The pinnacle of achievement? Hanging completed models from bedroom ceilings with fishing line.
13. Playing Marbles at Recess
Marble season arrived with spring, pockets bulging with colorful glass spheres as we raced home to continue tournaments begun at recess. Neighborhood champions guarded prized “shooters”—oversized marbles with swirling patterns inside.
Circles scratched in dirt became arenas for intense concentration. “Knuckles down” was the stern reminder before each shot. Winning another boy’s cat’s-eye or clearie brought unmatched satisfaction.
14. Watching Saturday Morning Cartoons
As televisions gradually appeared in homes, Saturday mornings became sacred. I’d wake at dawn, sneaking downstairs in pajamas to warm up the set before anyone else claimed it.
The test pattern’s ghostly face kept me company until programming began. Bowls of sugary cereal balanced precariously on crossed legs as Bugs Bunny and Woody Woodpecker performed their weekly magic.