The title of this post may seem a bit anachronistic, but for many, this is the time of the new year more real than January 1 as suggested by our calendar. A friends' post on FB, the back-to-school blessing at church, and increased traffic are just a few of the events that got me thinking about this start of a new year. I remember those starts as a student, as a teacher, as a parent sending my children off, and now as someone who works with teachers and students. There is something so marvelous about a fresh start.
I just love the smell of newly sharpened pencils. You know the ones that still have a whole eraser. A yellow number 2 pencil is an appropo metaphor for fresh starts. I remember organizing my new blue 3-ring binders with fresh notebook paper, making sure my name and phone number were written properly in case it got lost. In elementary school there was very little as exciting as opening a new box of crayons. Poor Mr. Lincoln, all he ever had was a box of 8. When we could afford it, I always had the box of 64 with "built in sharpener." I can conjure up that fragrance in my mind as I sit at my computer. Oh, and I could not wait to get a fresh, never-opened, bottle of Elmer's Glue. It was never the same after it had been used because there was always dried residue on the cap and stopping up the hole. Did you ever cover your palms with the glue, let it dry, then peel it off? I loved (love) doing that.
I remember tours of the school so we would know where the office, cafeteria, and most importantly, the bathrooms were. It is always good to know where the bathrooms are. I can name every teacher I had at Dalewood Elementary school. 1st grade, Mrs. McPherson (both my older brothers had her); 2nd Miss Williams (she was young and beautiful and, if my memory serves, loved literature); 3rd Mrs. Trowbridge (she was tough, and I sat behind Howard Humble who had warts on his fingers); 4th Mrs. Gerow (she pronounced my name "myrilyn"); 5th and 6th Mrs. Simpson (she was a trip). Other support staff at Dalewood included Mrs. Melin the librarian who lived up the street, Mrs. White the P.E. teacher who weighed about 800 pounds, and our chorus teacher whose name I cannot remember but who taught us songs from "Oklahoma." I am still known to burst out in song with "Oooooooooooooaklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain," or "chicks and ducks and geese better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey." Ah, great memories.
Sometimes, however, the first of a new year can be very daunting. I remember my first day of first grade. For some reason, my daddy was the one who took me. That is probably because my oldest brother was at a different school and Mom took him. I was sort of (understatement) a Daddy's girl, so maybe it was because I begged him to. I do not know, I just know he is who took me. I remember what I had on. It was a grey jumper with black kettles printed on the fabric, and a white blouse. I was a bit apprehensive as I watched Daddy leave. Little did I know that I was about to begin some of my best and longest-lasting friendships there in Mrs. McPherson's first grade class. It was the start of a new year; a new year that brought about many adventures like learning to read, and how to jump rope, and how to stand in line, and how to order lunches in the cafeteria...just lots of important stuff.
I only attended 3 schools in my pre-collegiate days. They were, as mentioned, Dalewood Elementary, Litton Junior High, and Isaac Litton Senior High. There were many people with whom I attended first through twelfth grades. Seventh grade is the only other year where I remember my first day. Oh, my word, talk about trauma. First of all, I wore a red and olive plaid skirt with an olive shirt both of which I made that summer while learning to sew from Mrs. Gilliam. I can still hear her voice, "we do not want our darts to have puckers." The skirt and blouse were okay, but, alas, I also had on bobby socks. No, I was not in 7th grade in the 50's, and so, bobby socks were not in vogue. My mother had informed me that "nice girls do not wear hose to school." The other girls in the 7th grade at Litton Junior High in 1964 were apparently all harlots except for Becky Leech and me. Sadly, the majority of the student body defined things differently than my mother, and so they mistakenly thought of Becky and me as dorks rather than seeing the failed morals of all those other girls in hose with pink nail polish on them to stop the runs. I was always envious of those nail-polished stockings. Then, to compound the drama of that first day I had Mr. Crockett, not Mrs. Cassidy which was not what I had been told. Seriously, only a dork in bobby socks would have had her mother move her from the handsome Mr. Crockett's room to the very tough, very school marmish Mrs. Cassidy's, but, yes, that is what I did.
There are other new year days I remember. The day my brother, Mike, started his senior year at Litton. Mike had been a bit "adventurous" in school, and sometimes found himself in hot water - translated suspended - but this, his senior year, was going to be different. My mother was explaining this to her best friend as they chatted over a morning cup of coffee in our kitchen. Mom, brimming over with enthusiasm over this new leaf Mike had turned over, describing to Maxine how nice he looked when he left for school, how optimistic she was that this was going to be his year. In the middle of the conversation, the phone rang. It was the school principal. Mike had just been suspended for smoking behind the band room. What's a mom to do?
I remember the new year that Marshall began the two year old class at Otter Creek. He had his little bag with his name on it, dressed in little khaki shorts with a red, navy and khaki knit shirt. His hair was brushed. His face was bright and shiny. "Miss" Jan was driving carpool that morning, taking Franklin and Marshall off for their first day with "Miss" Eva. As he waved goodbye to me, he fell down the front steps managing to get a scrape, a cut, and a gouge in that one fall. Happy new year, Marsh. I fear it set the tone for all of school for him.
The last new year day I remember was when MP went off to Georgia to college. She and I were talking about that today and it ranks only a half step below her life's absolute worst day so far. We took all her belongings, set them up in her dorm room. We rearranged, changed this, checked out that, dragging our heels, desperately not wanting to leave her. But, the time arrived that we had to say good-by, leave her in Athens, and drive home. Oh, it makes me sick to my stomach to think about. We left her, at her request, in a basically empty dorm a week before classes began. During the five hour drive home, there was not one moment when either Mr. Lincoln, or I, or both of us were not crying. Sadly, back at the dorm, I think MP was shedding tears well beyond those 5 hours. Georgia turned out to be great and wonderful for her, but that day of the new year was agonizing.
So happy new year to all you students, teachers, administrators, cafeteria workers, janitors, bus drivers, and parents. I wish you all a great new year filled with new adventures, new friends, new things to learn, and I wish you
blessings
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