Write About the 1st Day of School

 

First day of school for the Julien kids

The photo today is of me and my two younger brothers (#3 had not been born yet) on the first day of school in front of our apartment building entrance. I was one of those kids who loved school and was always eager to begin a new year. I'm not sure what grades we three were entering that year, but there were no jeans and there were no pants worn by girls in those days. 

The one thing I remember so clearly is that we all had new shoes as did the vast majority of our classmates. The plan was that we would wear them all year, but if you were a kid whose feet grew fast, it didn't work so well. 

One of the things I loved on the first day of school, when I was a student, was receiving all our textbooks. The teacher passed them out, one by one, and we got to leaf through to see what the year might bring. To this day, I enjoy leafing through a new book.

My first day of school as a teacher in 1961 is clear to me, as well. I remember standing in front of the 21 emotionally disturbed children who made up my class. Every one of them had new shoes, and so did I. Mine were pointed-toe, 3 inch heels, and theirs were shiny leather. Very few kids wore gym shoes or athletic shoes to school in that era. They were leather, not yet scuffed or dusty. Every child had his/her hair neatly combed, and shirts tucked in. 

What are your memories of going back to school after a summer vacation? It's definitely a topic to write about for your family stories book. The list below might help trigger your memories:

A.  Did you have new shoes to start school each year?

B.  Were you excited about going back to school or dreading it?

C.  Did you always have a new notebook, ruled paper, and pencils to take with you?

D.  Were you eager to see your classmates?

E.  Were you apprehensive?

F.  Did you know who your teacher would be ahead of time?

G.  Did you bring your lunch to school?

H.  Did you get a new outfit to wear that first day?

I.   Did you walk to school with other kids? 

J.  What was your grade school like? High school? 

It's a great topic to write about for an exercise today. Do a bit of pondering after you read the list above. 

Memories of Starting School Each Year

School started yesterday where our two youngest grandchildren live, also here in our community. It seems too early to me because I went to school in the days when we always started the day after Labor Day in September. 

I looked forward to that first day of school every year. Being among the fortunate who liked school, I longed for the happy days in the classroom, learning more each year. I remember thinking I would learn how to read on the very first day of first grade. My mother had promised it would happen. She spoke figuratively and I took it literally. First day, first grade, I'd be a reader. Needless to say, it took a bit longer but with the help of Dick and Jane and Baby Sally, their pets Spot and Puff, I acquired the ability to put letters together to make words and then put words together to read stories in our first readers. Bliss! 

In the few weeks prior to that first day of school, my mother took us shopping for school supplies. The list then was far shorter than the ones kids today have. We needed only the very basic things, never anything fancy. The school supplied a lot. A giant jar of school paste lived in a supply closet located in our primary classrooms section of the school. Stacks of paper to write on and reams of colored construction paper inhabited that closet, too. I still remember the smell of the paste when the teacher twisted the lid and lifted it off the jar. A sweet but clean aroma permeated the area as she refilled our classroom jar. No Elmer's Glue for us.

My brothers and I always had new shoes to begin the school year. No sneakers for everyday wear, those we put on for gym class or to play after school. We girls wore loafers or saddle shoes or mary janes. The boys had oxfords or loafers. Girls wore skirts or dresses. My mother usually made my clothes but I had a say in the fabrics and patterns she used. Our faces were scrubbed clean and hair fixed just so on that first day. We learned that we were to make a good impression on the teacher who stationed herself at the classroom door to greet us on that special morning. 

For me, one of the best parts of the first day of school was getting books I'd never seen before. Readers, math books, science books, social studies books, and in the higher grades English books filled with grammar lessons. Getting a new book still gives me a surge of joy. 

We walked to school in the morning, walked home for lunch, then back to school and a final walk home in the mid-afternoon. I lived the farthest from the school but those several city blocks never seemed long, even on the coldest days of winter or when it rained. There was only one busy street on my route and a retired policeman never failed to be there to see us across. Mr. Rawl made sure I made it safely to the other side of the street from kindergarten through eighth grade. He wore his police uniform, had silver white hair, merry blue eyes and always a smile for every kid who came along. I knew I was special to him, but so did every other child who walked that route. It was exciting to see him on that first day every September. 

Even the few years that I was a teacher, I loved the first day of school. I knew that I'd be able to stand in front of the class, look down the rows of desks and see brand new shoes, neatly combed hair and faces shining clean. Later in the year, the shoes were scuffed and faces sometimes clean, other times not. 

I stopped teaching after five years when I became a mother. I remember that first Tuesday morning, the day after Labor Day when I gazed out my living room window at the children walking to school. It was the first time in 22 years that I wouldn't be starting school. And it hurt! But only for a little while. I knew it would only be a few years until our first child would march off to school, new shoes, clean face and hair combed just so. And today, it was two of my grandchildren who carried on the tradition. Didn't matter that it was the middle of August, it was still that special first day of the school year.

What kind of first day of school memories do you have? Are they in your memory book or do you still need to write about it? Now's the perfect time.

Hearts and Heroes For February

Today is President's Day and last week we celebrated Valentine's Day. Below is a memory piece about the things we did in school when I was a child living in a Chicago suburb. I hope you are continuing to write your own memories for your children and grandchildren. Not all writing is for publishing, some is meant to be for self, family and friends.  Writing your memories can also be a good prompt for future stories.

Hearts and Heroes

By Nancy Julien Kopp

After the exhilaration of the Christmas season in the 40’s and 50’s, January brought us little in Chicago but frigid days and icy sidewalks. Thirty-one days of snow piling up, indoor recess, and head colds passed around our classroom left us longing for some excitement.

As soon as our teacher turned the page of the big calendar on the classroom wall to February, the dreary days disappeared, and we had something to look forward to. In every grade, February 12^th was celebrated. We attended Lincoln School, named for our sixteenth president. In those days, the state of Illinois recognized this great statesman with speeches in the state capitol, stories in the newspapers and on the radio, even running essay contests about Honest Abe for school children. At our school, we had Lincoln’s birthday as a holiday every other year. In the alternate years, we were given the day off on George Washington’s birthday, the 22^nd of February.

Our teachers decorated bulletin boards with the red, white, and blue patriotic colors and information about the two men. One year we all cut out silhouettes of both Lincoln and Washington and placed them on the windows and walls of our classroom. Seeing them every day imprinted their likeness on my mind forever. As we got into the intermediate grades, we read about these two revered presidents. First, we learned the stories of their boyhoods. What a fascinating tale George, his axe and the cherry tree made. Hadn’t we all been confronted by a parent when we’d done something we shouldn’t have? And didn’t we learn something about truthfulness with this story? Who could forget the story of Abe Lincoln studying borrowed books by the light of the fire? Or the long, long walk he took to return a penny to a storekeeper who’d returned too much change to him.

We learned about their achievements as adults, the experiences that led them both to the highest honor in the land. We studied the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, always keeping the roles of these two men in mind. What a way to show us what could be achieved when we saw that a boy who cut down a cherry tree became the Father of our country. We gloried in details about the men, like Washington’s false teeth made of wood. Lots of the stories we’ve since learned were proven to be only “stories” passed down through the years. It doesn’t matter to me now, if they were all true or only partially true. The important thing was that the stories taught me a great deal about these two men, about life, and about my country.

Valentines Day was sandwiched between the presidents’ birthdays. We cut out hearts, we drew hearts, we colored hearts. We wrote our names in hearts, and as we got older, we paired our names in a heart with the name of the object of our affections. Whoever he may have been that week! How I loved the decorated boxes lined up in each classroom that served as our mailbox. What excitement to watch our classmates slip their valentines into the boxes, one by one. We opened our valentines while we munched on frosted cupcakes or heart-shaped sugar cookies and sipped red punch.

The shortest month of the year provided knowledge and entertainment and took our minds off the cold, snowy days of winter.