School days, school days/ dear old golden rule days./ Readin’ and ‘riting and ‘rithmetic/ taught to the tune of a hickory stick.
When I was in Kindergarten, I remember watching upper class girls practicing a number at recess to the tune of “Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar, and be better off than you are, or would you rather be a mule?” They might have been 4th, 5th, or 6th graders but I wanted to be just like them when I grew up. When I was a junior in high school I was envious of the senior couple who danced to Serenade in Blue during a school show; a precursor, perhaps, to Dancing with the Stars. I was in the background chorus of sorts. I had a glorious senior year; editor of the school paper with press privileges. Our school was to receive a national award and even the politicians wanted to capture some of the glory. My journalism teacher pushed me to attend a luncheon at a Seattle landmark with the heavy weights of Seattle newsprint, all graduates of my school. I listened in on their conversation in awe and they were kind enough to bring me into the discussion, once, maybe twice, and they even paid for my lunch. How good is that!
Our school would host two students from schools who had already received the honor or were to receive the following year. I was honored to host a girl from North Carolina in my home. Our friendship was cemented when we discovered that we each liked to light up. She was from a tobacco state; what was my excuse? I persuaded the school principal that we should have the day off to show our out-of-state guests around the city and state and off we went. Coming home from Olympia, we thought it would be a good idea to have pizza at a popular Italian restaurant in downtown Seattle. I dutifully called my mother to let her know so she wouldn’t worry. We did get home a little late and mom was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Where have you girls been?” she asked. I told her that we went to a pizza restaurant. Now, pizza or pizza pie as it was known, wasn’t on the middle class menu back then. She thought I’d said we were going for a “piece of pie.” What I couldn’t tell her was where we’d gone in the seediest part of downtown Seattle and that during dinner both the Mayor of Seattle and the Chief of Police had come over to our table. They had been to the assembly at school the day before and had been totally charmed by my house guest and her southern accent and had recognized her at our table. They did not pay for our meal. Still, a great memory.
School memories tend to figure prominently in a Life Review. Not all memories are positive but for many September and the return of cooler days and autumn leaves are often catalysts for nostalgic jumps back in time. The first day of a new school year combined the excitement of reuniting with friends after summer separation mingled with anxiety of the unknown. “The purpose of life review is to harvest the wisdom of our experiences.” It is followed by Life Repair — “looking at areas of our lives that need healing.” (From The Inner Journey of Aging, a Sage-ing International Intensive.)
This “Sage” will soon meet a third grade boy or girl that I will tutor/mentor through the school year. I am both excited and anxious. Some patterns, I fear, are genetically coded.
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