I read a posting on Facebook about the R.M. Bacon School
Anniversary reunion - if it wasn't over 906 miles away I would have gone...it
would be fun to see my elementary school once again...maybe not fun to see
classmates who have grown old like me. - and then I thought about
my first day of school there…
...The R.M. Bacon School was 4 blocks north of our little
house on Third & Stratton Avenue. My 5th birthday in November was to
late in the school year so I had to wait to start kindergarten until I was
almost 6. I was always big and now I tower over the other
kids. Unbelievably, I can remember the new shirt I wore that first day of
school. It was light brown and had a drawing of an Indian Chief in a
feathered headdress stenciled on the pocket. Why? The whys
of true art can’t be explained and be questioned. I was assigned to the
afternoon half day session. It was considered at my time that a full day was
too long for our little minds or maybe it was the teachers who couldn’t take a
longer day? Today the kids stay all day and some into the early evening
under the watchful (sometimes) eyes of teacher aides schooled in watching students
play video games.
Early that morning Mom kissed me goodbye then she went to
work. (She had a tear in her eye. As for me, I couldn't wait to go
to school.) Nanny packed me a snack and walked me to school with other
mothers, caretakers and their polished kids. We joined a long caravan
slowly going up 3rd street. The school yard was alive with
kids; girls playing hopscotch and boys shooting marbles. I had my new
Buster Brown's on and they squeaked as I crossed the big playground. A
bell high on the walk clanged and the older kids who had devoured their
cafeteria lunches automatically lined up to march into the afternoon session.
The new kindergartners waited at their own special entrance that led up a
curving staircase to the “nursery/classroom” with it's big bay window.
Nanny took me to the foot of the stairs, handed me my brand-new Roy Rogers
lunch box containing 4 cookies and a bunch of grapes. Our teacher, Mrs.
Garton was at the top of the stairs waiting to greet us. Happy kids filed by
her smiling and excited. I followed and as I greeted my teacher I
experienced high anxiety for the first time in my life - I realized that
I was not going to have Nanny with me for the whole afternoon. I grabbed
the railing and hung on for dear life as Mrs. Garton softly said, “Come, let’s
not keep the others waiting.” I didn’t budge. She gently took my
arm thinking I might be afraid to climb the stairs. I tightened my
grip. She gave a harder tug and I could see my grandmother coming
forward. Mrs. Garton’s voice changed. “It's time to go to school,”
she said, raising her voice.” That did it. A low whine of
"NO" started deep in my gut and grew louder as she pulled on me.
Now the older kids started to hear that there was something going on – a
kid was stuck to the railing. This seemed to delight them. They
started to hoot and holler. And I whined louder. My classmates were
seeing their own deepest fears come true - a couple started to bowl with
me. They were having second thoughts now about what lurked at the end of
those winding steps. Mrs. Garton knew she had to act fast before it
became group hysteria and she would loose the whole class to the first
day willies
My grip was vise like. Adrenalin spiked and fanned my
resolve not to budge. Mrs. Garton was pulling as hard as she could.
My grandmother joined her, uttering an embarrassed apology..."If only his
mother could be here.” I couldn’t believe she had gone over to the
teacher's side in our battle of wills.
Mrs. Garten, now shouting - “the law says you have to go to
school, you...you must...you have to come into the classroom right now....STOP
THIS NOW!". In times of great stress one's survival instincts take
over - I let go and Mrs. Garton nearly fell on top of me.
Mrs. Garton steadied herself and told my grandmother that she thought it was
best to go now and leave me with the professionals. "All will be
alright," she assured her. My grandmother made a fast exit. I
am sure as she walked the few blocks home she wondered how mom was going to
react to this event and hoped that she wouldn’t be blamed "not getting me
off to a good start,”
When Nanny got to our house I was waiting for her at the
back door. I had simply walked out after Mrs. Garton led me to my seat. I
feigned defeat only to escape and make my way by the “wilderness” route (the
unpaved 4th street through the woods) tand beat her home.
“Calvin”! Nanny immediately walked me back to school (after a hard shot
on my behind which convinced me that my revolt was over). It was my fate.
I had to go to school.
I went up the stairs unassisted, looking back only once -
and never missed another day of school (on purpose) - only giving in when I had
the vast array of kid diseases. My love of learning was kindled that day
- and it has never dimmed since.
.
