Sunday, May 10, 2020

The Lockdown Chronicles #2

Officially, we are no longer locked down.  Our Governor advised us we'd still be safer at home.  We replied, "Yes, Ma'am," and went shopping.  Unofficially, the pattern I refer to as Perpetual Saturday Syndrome persists.  Friday, May 8, 2020 was the last day of school in my home county, and the last day of Kindergarten ever for my granddaughter.  We observed this milestone without the oversized white academic garb complete with mortarboard that indicates the kids may progress to First Grade.  We did without a class party, a warm-weather field trip to the zoo, and the limo ride that was to be part of the prizes promised for selling lots of fund-raiser junk.  We also moved forward without hugs for the teacher or exchange of phone numbers in anticipation of summer playdates.  There was not even a "Have a great summer," or "See you in August."

We had two remaining worksheets which Maddie sailed through without hesitation.  I completed the online checklist and hit send, assuring the teacher for the fifth time that we read 2 books every night, that we went over the sight words daily, and that she could definitely count and write to 100.  Maddie said, "So Kindergarten is over?"  Yes, Maddie, you're done.  Not with a bang, and do not whimper.  She didn't.  She gave me a perplexed frown and asked if she could color. Her workbooks for summer enrichment, her pencil box, her scissors, glue stick, and crayons are all still on the kitchen table.  This space has been her classroom since the day we picked up our first packet of assignments from the front of the school she wouldn't be allowed to enter again this school year.  She sat on adult-sized dining chairs and looked at a wall with sconces and an old print we brought with us from Montgomery 18 years ago.  If she missed funny bulletin boards or her own cubbie near the reading corner, she never complained.

I enjoyed a Kindergarten graduation, or at least my family did.  I remember not liking the white gown and mortarboard I was mortified to wear, as I tripped along the hallway of Rooks School.  My diploma was signed by Principal Viola Rooks, and probably by Mrs. Morris, my teacher, as well.  Mrs. Morris was mean and would gladly smack the palm of your hand or your rear end with a ruler, depending on how talkative you were.  I was on the receiving end of quite a few well-placed swats that year, and Mrs. Morris never worried that she would lose her job for spanking children.  Children who got spanked at school got spanked at home, too.

 I excelled at Kindergarten, even though I only got 2 report cards.  I left mine at home after the second reporting period, and I never got another one.  I guess the budget at little, private Rooks School was even more limited than the public school's where Maddie attends today. I was not conscious at all of whether or not schools had money to pay for things.  I took lunch to school every day and also brought a nickel with me so I could buy a Coke, orangeade, milk or chocolate milk. (All of those came in glass bottles!)  We sat in rows in little desks and never left our classroom other than for restroom break and recess.  Our coloring pages were simple affairs--usually one common object like a flower or a house.  I once got into trouble for coloring a teapot purple and red in spite of the fact that Mrs. Morris had colored hers green and red and put it on the board in front of the room.

The classroom itself must have been some one's bedroom at one time.  We exited our classroom by a separate door onto the wrap-around porch and into the yard for play.  Rooks School was housed in a a wonderful Victorian home with a round tower and octagon-shaped pavers from the sidewalk to the front steps.  It was less than a block away from Oak Park in Montgomery and within 2 blocks of the hospital than has swallowed up the whole neighborhood since then.  But what a building this was!  The principal's office was the entrance hall, with its desk parallel to an imposing stairway.  There were French doors to the right leading into what had probably been the drawing room.  That room was my classroom when I finally made it to 2nd grade.  I never got to go upstairs, but my dream was to be in 6th grade in the round tower classroom.

In some ways it is surprising that I'd remember so much about Kindergarten.  I have friends that don't even know who they had for English their senior year in high school!  But the strict, unique character of the school I attended is captured for all time in a series of mental snapshots. They tell me my first experience of school was rich and useful, because I am a student to this day.

Will Maddie remember Kindergarten?  She really liked her pre-K class, but already some of the names and faces from that year have begun to blur.  She was thrilled with her new school in August, 2019, which feels far removed  from the kitchen table and  the stack of "take-home centers" she carefully colored and cut out.  Maddie, your teacher was glad to meet you and gave you a choice of a hug, a handshake, or a dance as a greeting.  You chose a dance! You  had a cubbie all your own. You went to the computer lab, and that was your favorite thing.  You bought Italian ice on Fridays.  Remember.

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