September 2007 ~ School
When I was a child, September was one of my favorite months, running a close second to December. While December brought Christmas, September brought The First Day of School. I was always excited and ready for school to begin. The new tablet and crayons and especially the lunch box were part of the fun. And deciding what to wear on the first day always took some discussion with my mother.
I liked school, then and now. I would like to think it was because I liked “learning,” but I’m not sure that was true. I liked being in the atmosphere where there were books and notebooks and an order to things that you could count on. I liked having art and music.
For several years our music teacher produced an operetta with all the grade school kids. I always had a singing part. The operetta I remember best was about a princess who was turned into a witch and then got turned into a princess again. I played the part of the princess. My high school aged cousin “did” my hair and I wore a green dress under a black cape and hat. I felt glamorous and mysterious, which was not an easy thing for a little red-headed girl with freckles and gold-rimmed glasses.
When I was in the third grade, I learned to play the soprano saxophone and joined the band. Our little schoolhouse did not have a gym or any other space for a band. On “band day” we carried our instruments and walked “out town” to a car dealership that had an empty showroom. This is where we had band for many of my grade school years. The man who was the crossing guard told me I was going to grow up with one arm longer than the other because I had carried my saxophone so many miles.
Perhaps you have seen the bumper sticker that says, “If you can read this, thank a teacher.” Every time I see it, I pause for a moment and give thanks for the incredible gift of learning to read. I remember the little paperback primer we started with… Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot. I remember the momentous day we were permitted to bring the book home. I sat in the front porch swing and read the book aloud to my neighbor, who was as thrilled as I was. I began to read in the fall of 1939 and I have not stopped. Of the many important “learnings” in my life, learning to read was and is the most important. There is no area of my life that is not nourished by reading. I am continually grateful for reading and for all those who write the books that I read. These authors are among the teachers who have blessed me over the years.
Recently, I tried to remember the names of all of my teachers from grades one through eight. I can see their faces but a few names have slipped away. That I became a teacher is not a surprise. My mother was a teacher, as were many of my aunts and uncles. My mother was my teacher when I was in the sixth grade. And I remember spending a day with one of my aunts who taught in a little one room country school.
So, as September moves into its special expression of colored leaves and cool breezes, may it also quicken our awareness of the daily opportunities we have to teach and to learn in the schoolroom of life. And, oh yes, if you can read this, thank a teacher!
jbm
I liked school, then and now. I would like to think it was because I liked “learning,” but I’m not sure that was true. I liked being in the atmosphere where there were books and notebooks and an order to things that you could count on. I liked having art and music.
For several years our music teacher produced an operetta with all the grade school kids. I always had a singing part. The operetta I remember best was about a princess who was turned into a witch and then got turned into a princess again. I played the part of the princess. My high school aged cousin “did” my hair and I wore a green dress under a black cape and hat. I felt glamorous and mysterious, which was not an easy thing for a little red-headed girl with freckles and gold-rimmed glasses.
When I was in the third grade, I learned to play the soprano saxophone and joined the band. Our little schoolhouse did not have a gym or any other space for a band. On “band day” we carried our instruments and walked “out town” to a car dealership that had an empty showroom. This is where we had band for many of my grade school years. The man who was the crossing guard told me I was going to grow up with one arm longer than the other because I had carried my saxophone so many miles.
Perhaps you have seen the bumper sticker that says, “If you can read this, thank a teacher.” Every time I see it, I pause for a moment and give thanks for the incredible gift of learning to read. I remember the little paperback primer we started with… Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot. I remember the momentous day we were permitted to bring the book home. I sat in the front porch swing and read the book aloud to my neighbor, who was as thrilled as I was. I began to read in the fall of 1939 and I have not stopped. Of the many important “learnings” in my life, learning to read was and is the most important. There is no area of my life that is not nourished by reading. I am continually grateful for reading and for all those who write the books that I read. These authors are among the teachers who have blessed me over the years.
Recently, I tried to remember the names of all of my teachers from grades one through eight. I can see their faces but a few names have slipped away. That I became a teacher is not a surprise. My mother was a teacher, as were many of my aunts and uncles. My mother was my teacher when I was in the sixth grade. And I remember spending a day with one of my aunts who taught in a little one room country school.
So, as September moves into its special expression of colored leaves and cool breezes, may it also quicken our awareness of the daily opportunities we have to teach and to learn in the schoolroom of life. And, oh yes, if you can read this, thank a teacher!
jbm
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