September 3, 2104--Back to School
"Slow down," Rona said as I raced up the Bristol Road to get to the diner before all the booths were taken. I hate having to wait for coffee. I'm spoiled when it comes to that.
"It's foggy and the first day of school so you need to be careful."
"I forgot about that."
"There'll be school buses along the road and kids waiting for them, disoriented because of their new schedules."
"You're right. And the fog is getting thicker." I slowed to 45.
"It is amazing, isn't it, how in small towns pretty much every student, from kindergarten through high school, goes to school by bus. What an organizational challenge that is. To make it all work. It's much more complicated than delivering the mail."
"Which also is impressive. About these we still know how to make things work."
"And how important rural mail and schools are to the local economy and the life of the country." Even without coffee we were getting philosophical.
The Bristol School by then was only about a mile ahead. Even in the thickening fog I had a sense of where we were and how far it was before we would get there and need to slow down yet more.
"Get ready to stop," Rona pointed to a looming yellow image. "There's a bus pulled over. I can just make out what appears to be a couple of little ones with their mothers. How I love it. It reminds me of my first day in school."
With that I flashed back to my own first day. Not a happy one for me.
"I loved school. Even from the first day," Rona enthused. "I didn't have very responsive or encouraging parents so to have success there, to have teachers thinking well of me was important to my coming to feel good about myself."
"I'm embarrassed to admit that I was such a mama's boy that I hated the idea of being without her for even a few hours. But ultimately I adjusted--actually, just after a few days in kindergarten--and like you found schooling to be affirming. So why am I getting a queasy stomach as we get closer to the school?"
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Can you believe it, I think I'm having an anxiety attack. Just like on my first day. Actually, I felt this way every first day. The first day back after summer vacation. My stomach then, like now, was tied in knots. At least for a few hours or for a day or two."
"How many years has it been since you were last in school? Including graduate school? Could it be as many as 50 years?"
"I'm afraid so," I said, sighing. "I guises at heart I'm still a scared little kid."
Rona slid over to put her arm around me. I was shaking and beginning to tear up.
Later, at the diner, I shared some of this with friends and one by one they confessed to having some of the same kinds of feelings. Perhaps not as extreme as mine, but similar.
We agreed that these deep memories become quite hard wired, never really dissipating, and that they stay with us forever. They are that powerful. And even after many decades they emerge, reappear on mornings such as this.
"More coffee," I called out to Sue.
Willy said, "I think I need a drink."
"It's foggy and the first day of school so you need to be careful."
"I forgot about that."
"There'll be school buses along the road and kids waiting for them, disoriented because of their new schedules."
"You're right. And the fog is getting thicker." I slowed to 45.
"It is amazing, isn't it, how in small towns pretty much every student, from kindergarten through high school, goes to school by bus. What an organizational challenge that is. To make it all work. It's much more complicated than delivering the mail."
"Which also is impressive. About these we still know how to make things work."
"And how important rural mail and schools are to the local economy and the life of the country." Even without coffee we were getting philosophical.
The Bristol School by then was only about a mile ahead. Even in the thickening fog I had a sense of where we were and how far it was before we would get there and need to slow down yet more.
"Get ready to stop," Rona pointed to a looming yellow image. "There's a bus pulled over. I can just make out what appears to be a couple of little ones with their mothers. How I love it. It reminds me of my first day in school."
With that I flashed back to my own first day. Not a happy one for me.
"I loved school. Even from the first day," Rona enthused. "I didn't have very responsive or encouraging parents so to have success there, to have teachers thinking well of me was important to my coming to feel good about myself."
"I'm embarrassed to admit that I was such a mama's boy that I hated the idea of being without her for even a few hours. But ultimately I adjusted--actually, just after a few days in kindergarten--and like you found schooling to be affirming. So why am I getting a queasy stomach as we get closer to the school?"
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Can you believe it, I think I'm having an anxiety attack. Just like on my first day. Actually, I felt this way every first day. The first day back after summer vacation. My stomach then, like now, was tied in knots. At least for a few hours or for a day or two."
"How many years has it been since you were last in school? Including graduate school? Could it be as many as 50 years?"
"I'm afraid so," I said, sighing. "I guises at heart I'm still a scared little kid."
Rona slid over to put her arm around me. I was shaking and beginning to tear up.
* * *
Later, at the diner, I shared some of this with friends and one by one they confessed to having some of the same kinds of feelings. Perhaps not as extreme as mine, but similar.
We agreed that these deep memories become quite hard wired, never really dissipating, and that they stay with us forever. They are that powerful. And even after many decades they emerge, reappear on mornings such as this.
"More coffee," I called out to Sue.
Willy said, "I think I need a drink."
Labels: Back to School, Bristol Diner, Childhood, Childhood Memories, First Day of Classes, Maine, Postal Service, School
posted by Steven Zwerling at
5:21 AM
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