Shamelessly borrowing the title today from "To Sir, With Love"
I was talking to a friend today. His son has had a less than stellar school career so far. Nothing huge. And not his fault either. He's just stuck with a group of kids that make the school days miserable. I feel for that kid. Big time. One of my children has had similar struggles. One day our geeks will inherit the earth. And they will be darn nice people; the kind of people who treat others the way they want to be treated.
Gloating about the people my kids (and others like them) will grow up to be is not the point of my writing today though. Today I want to sing the praises of the incredible teachers and principal and parents that made up my grade school experience. I kid you not, just thinking back on it makes my eyes tear up a little. Really. Because of these amazing people, I had exactly the kind of school experience that every child should get to have. One that is full of all the right memories.
Kindergarten was in this big old room with hardwood floors that creaked. We had wooden tables and chairs that creaked. My friends included Darren and Jenny. We had an Easter egg hunt. . .at a public school! What can I say, it was the 70s.
In first grade we had "private rooms" and a teacher who (I'm sorry!) appeared old enough to be my grandmother. She was very sweet and gentle. She taught me to write and spell. We were to think before we wrote the word for our spelling test. No erasing allowed! Side note. . .I ran into my 1st grade teacher some 30 years after she had me in her class. She remembered me. And guess what? She looked exactly as I had remembered her. I wasn't sure if I should tell her that or not though. . . .
Second grade. That was the year that I got to read Little House on the Prairie out loud to my classmates. And we did multiplication tables--it was a race to the moon! And I was the first one to the moon! My reward? I got to meet the math teacher for the "upper grades."
Third grade was where I met my best friend. It was also the grade where another very good friend lost her dog. And her parents announced their divorce. My teacher that year was the quintessential 70s elegant lady. She had a complicated updo and wore fashionable clothes. She also had "Now or Laters" in her file cabinet (that's what she called them so that's what we called them). We got one when we were especially good.
When we hit fourth grade we were in the intermediate grades and got to switch rooms for our classes. We got lockers. Our homeroom teacher was related to a famous football player. He was the teacher who told us "Get the lead out" and expected us to behave like little adults. Fourth grade was also where we got to start musical instruments at school. Mrs. H was the best. She gave so much of her time getting us started on the right instruments.
By fifth grade we settled into our role as the kids in the middle. We had the locker thing down pat. Switching classes was no big deal. We were getting so much better at our instruments. I'm sure Mrs. H was thrilled with that! My memory is fuzzy but somewhere in here we had the unveiling of our Nature Center on the back of our school property. To a kid, it was amazing and huge. Even though I had a woods behind my house, the one at school was different. For one thing, I wasn't supposed to go in the woods behind my house because it wasn't ours. But the school woods had a trail and stumps for sitting on while we had a discussion.
In sixth grade we were magically the "upper grades" responsible for helping the younger kids. We had industrial arts class and home ec (I think? Or did we have to wait until 7th grade?) Well I do remember for sure that by 6th grade we had "all city band and orchestra" Monday night practices at Washington. The patience shown by that group of instrumental music teachers. . .corralling pre-teens and making us sound good. Incredible.
Seventh and eighth grade had special gifts. We got the chance to be in choir along with band/orchestra. I remember great nights of music. We had the Christmas choral program and a spring concert. The concert wasn't just standing on risers singing. Nooooooo. We had costumes and choreography. We were something else! We had our school band/orchestra concert. We wore trendy at the time (but wow, so dorky in hindsight) uniforms. We got to participate in the art show at the mall. We had a spring luncheon in home economics and we got to invite local celebrities then show them around our school. And then there was the eighth grade play. Parents volunteered to help create sets. Our teachers stayed late to have practices with us. They made magic happen on that stage.
Along the way there were field trips. Lessons in kindness and acceptance. Parties thrown by room mothers who were allowed to and able to make amazing cookies and cupcakes. We had book fairs. We had reading programs. . .I remember helping cut out the feet to be the footprints that marched throughout the school with our book titles on them. Another year they were circles to make up the bookworm. And when we met our reading goal as a school, we got to watch "Pete's Dragon" in the auditorium.
The good old days. Made possible by some pretty darn incredible parents, teacher and a fine principal. The ones who taught us that we were there to help each other. The ones who set us up in a loving caring environment that stressed the value of learning from the books and learning from each other. People who pushed us to be good kids who could look out for each other. One step at a time.
Somehow "thank you" hardly seems sufficient.
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