Tuesday, August 14, 2012

My First Day of School. . . . a lot: 1001

A long time ago, when I was a child, a really long time ago, I lived one cornfield away from my school.  Our family was the closest family to the school.  Other students lived several miles away, and got to ride the bus.  If, the Gods of School District 159 decreed, you lived less than a quarter mile from the school you had to get there on your own.  The cornfield stretched for less than a quarter mile.  Therefore one of the big regrets I had about grades 1-8 (no kindergarten or middle school) was not getting to ride the bus.  All the other kids did, and I thought it was the greatest thing to do.  BUT disappointing transportation issues aside, I loved school.  It was the most exciting social aspect of life as I knew it. I've gone to school off and on ever since.

But you never forget your first day.

Mom  had a small house full of 5 kids.  I was #4, and she probably smelled 'freedom' with 4 kids in school.  I was born on the cusp of school attendance deadlines, so Mom didn't think twice.  I started First Grade at 5 years old, having no idea what school was, except my older brother Kenneth--who also told me that the old gray cat dug in the sandbox to get to China--told me that school was horrible.  Kenneth has turned out pretty well, a hugely friendly, outgoing, and canny guy who can do a mean BBQ for a company of soldiers or a VFW full of townspeople.  But he flunked First Grade early on in life and had no love for school after that.  He, too, was a deadline birthday, and Mom had figured out that the sooner one more child was out of the house, the emptier the house would be. 

My first day of school, I was decked out in a dress which Mom made, of course.  She is a great seamstress, with a good eye for decorating.  She made all of our clothes when we were little, except the underwear.  For Christmas, when we were older, the girls got material instead of clothes.  I longed for a real store-bought anything for years.  But my first day of school I had no knowledge of fashion.  I just really liked the way my big tied bow flew behind me as I rode on the back of my brother's bike.  He said, "Now hold on tight and don't let go," because despite the fact he had to take his little sister to school on his bike in front of his friends, he was a kindly big brother.  He was in 8th grade then, having fared better in all the grades after First.

That's really all I remember about the Big Day.  Flying behind my big brother on his bike to an unknown destination which had been given some bad press.  But I went with a happy heart and innocent expectation.  Although many of my school years I was so painfully shy of other students that I only looked at my feet all day, I was a good student.  Learning came easy to me, and it gave me a sense of belonging which made up for a lot. Now I teach school. I still love it.

So I'm prepping for another September.  Buying some new (store bought) clothes, writing up syllabi, hooking up with the other teachers who've scattered to families and vacations and personal business all summer.  My students come from many countries.  They are adults. They, and I, live in a large metropolitan area.  I've checked my online roster for classes, and reading the names I wonder what the people behind them will be like.  Most, I'm sure, will be nervous and excited.  When I walk in the classroom the first day, I will be happy to meet them.  To my advantage, I still love being there, still love learning, and got over the shy thing a decade or so ago. 

I plan for them to have a good memory, many years from now, of their first day in class.  Whether their transportation is memorable or not is out of my hands.

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