School Days

A pic i took during my last days at school (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 


         When September comes I invariably think about school.  It's not just the store back-to-school specials or seeing the kids hitting the sidewalks with their backpacks or even my teacher wife returning to work after her summer vacation.   After all I spent a goodly part of my first 18 years attending school.  The cycle of years has ingrained that innate sense of the school season arriving.

         Now September seems to fly faster than I can grasp, like a playground merry-go-round that is revolving in child time leaving an older less agile me unable to jump onto it.   These days I am more content to watch the darn thing spinning than actually ride.  Still, ride I do.   My mind and body feel slower but the time keeps getting ahead of me just dragging me along with it.

          But when I was a child and then later a teen, September seemed like a thousand months.  At least while the month was passing.    There was so much to do and so much to absorb.  New faces in the classroom, some who might become friends.   New teachers and new curricula.  Homework and tests.  In high school there were the football games that I never attended but was well aware were going on because everyone else seemed interested and the evidence was everywhere in the hallways and around the campus.    Days grew shorter and nights became cooler.

           Soon September was over and I had adapted into the routine of another school year.  With the arrival of fall came the burst of color of the turning leaves.   November was on its way and that heralded the coming of Christmas with another long vacation.   Still, before we allow October to get away there is one more thing that was especially important in my life during grade school...

            Halloween was coming!

            And now with September nearly gone, once again I'm about to arrive at October.  This year, as in the past seven years, Halloween doesn't mean that much to me.  Oh sure, there are the advertisements about seasonal costume shops popping up here and there.   There are the special candy displays in the stores.   I've been seeing Halloween decorations in various yards and business establishments.  None of it matters now--not like it once did...

...to be continued

           Do you still associate September with the start of school?    What was your favorite time of  the school season?    How involved were you in school activities?

Post-High Blahs

My granddaughters taking a break at Arlee's Raw Blends in Princeton, NJ

          Oh, hello--remember me.  I'm the guy who used to write and post at this blog.  Did anyone notice that I had disappeared for a while?

         I really hadn't intended on taking such a long break, but vacation and then getting back home got me kind of side tracked.   Looking back I realize that I only missed three weeks worth of posting.  But in blog years three weeks is like three months.   Well, maybe that's not a scientific or realistic assessment, but missing three weeks on this blog seems like a long time to me. Since I started this blog I don't recall ever having missed a scheduled Saturday posting, but then again who's keeping score?

        Truth be told, I've fallen into a bit of a blogging slump.  Vacation can do that sometimes.  To me at least this happens.  For that matter, many of the highs in my life have been followed by a plunge into a sort of depth of not anything that I'd classify as clinical depression, but a sort of down feeling nevertheless.  This is probably a natural reaction for most if not all of us and that depressed state of mind makes sense--one day life is filled with excitement and happy times and then suddenly it's all over.  You're left with a sort of emptiness that memories can't quite fill.

        As the saying goes, "All good things must come to and end."   Fortunately that is the case for bad things too.  All things come to an end, or perhaps a transition point might be a more apt way to view the sequence of the ups and downs of life.  "Life goes on" to use another cliche, but it's also a truism because life just keeps going without regard to our feelings.

        As I reflect on my life in general, I think back to the most fun times of my life.   I remember much about the good times, but only a vague memory of how I felt after those good times had ended.  I recall feeling down, but not many details about what that down feeling encompassed in its totality.

        There were the times after Christmas, Halloween, or other special events.  Or a visit by favorite relatives or someone else who was special.  The build-up of the anticipation of a big event instilled a sense of optimism and excitement.  When the event arrived the excitement peaked.  And then it was all over with little to do but carry out the trash and clean the house.   Maybe there'd be some photos or videos that had captured the happy time, but often these mementos of the past are memories more melancholy than uplifting in any immediate tangible way.  I'd never want to give up the those memories that I can look at, but they make a rather weak substitute for being able to exist in that actual moment in time.

         After our vacation trip I spent a couple days unloading the van and even longer actually unpacking suitcases and putting things away.  Some of the boxes and a couple of the empty suitcases still remain where we left them.  My wife started back to work while I'm trying to get back into some sort of normal routine here at home.

       The miles of driving are behind us and those we visited are back to doing the things they normally do.  In a way it all seems like a dream to me.   There are memories of the things I did, but they almost don't even seem real.   What am I going to do now?   Things just seem kind of blasé now. I know it will all be normal soon, but this time around the normalcy is coming around slower. Of course, the vacation was much longer than any I'd taken before. I guess that counts for something.

      When I was in sixth grade living in San Diego, the kids in our grade took a week long trip to camp. It was the first time I'd ever been away from home without my parents being with me. Distanced from the normalcy of my family, on this school excursion I was now in the constant company of school mates, our chaperones, and the camp staff. This was a new and exciting adventure for me.

        That week was one of the most fun of my childhood. The activities kept us occupied throughout the day right up to the time we went to bed in our dormitories. I'd never been in a situation of that nature in my life and I didn't want it to end. I didn't even miss home. Then it did end and we went home. Riding home on the bus I sadly gazed out the window as the previous week paraded by in my mind.

         For days afterward I glumly wandered about the house thinking back on the camp experience. I made up sentimental songs about being at camp and sang them to myself. I was very sad for awhile. And then I was kind of sad for a few more days and then life just took over again and kept on going and was the same as it ever was. And that was okay because that's the way life is.

       Do you fall into a low state after the highs of life have passed by?   For you, what is the worst part about ending a vacation?    Can you recall a time in the past when you felt especially down after something fun had ended?

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Betty Rose and Minnie (Part Two)

 

   
         This is the second part of a story that I began in my previous post.  If you missed part one then you might want to go back to read that before continuing on with today's post.   This story about cruelty and bullying was inspired by a post that originally appeared at Robin's Your Daily Dose blog.

          While Betty Rose was generally considered to be the ugliest girl in school, Minnie might have been the fattest.  The name Minnie was actually her birth name rather than some descriptive moniker bestowed upon her by other classmates as was the case of one of the bigger boys who had been known as "Tiny" for as long as anyone could remember.  Tiny wasn't so much fat as he was really big and he good-naturedly accepted this given name as his mark of distinction that set him apart from the other boys.

          Minnie also seemed pleased with her name and appeared to carry her sizable frame with a sense of pride.  She had a pleasant demeanor with a continually cheerful countenance.   Some might have said she had  a "pretty face" though it was decidedly a very round face tinged with a rosy hue in cheeks that looked as though they could have been storing food for later in the day.

          Perhaps it was Minnie's obesity that attracted the small cadre of homely girls who gathered around her.  They might have been long time friends from grade school or maybe the neighborhood where they lived.  Rumor had it that they all came from the Five Points area at the bottom of the hill where the school was located.   I knew where the intersection known as Five Points was, but I was always somewhat unclear as to what exactly comprised the Five Points neighborhood.  To my understanding Five Points was one of the "bad neighborhoods" like Parham Hill or Home Avenue.  Those were the places were the lower class folks lived--the tougher rougher kids who were of low reputation and were undoubtedly headed for bad futures.

         At least that's what some people said.  I didn't know for sure where any of those girls came from or what kind of families they had.  For that matter I didn't know anything about any of them including most of their names.  And now after so many years the only names I remember are Minnie and Betty Rose.

        Each morning as I bided my time with my group of acquaintances, I would see that group of female outcasts on the opposite side of the auditorium on the front row near the stage gathered as though plotting their revenge on the mean students.  Or maybe they were just gossiping, commiserating, or dreaming about a better life away from the school society that had seemed to be rejecting them.  On the whole they didn't appear to be too displeased about their lives or their situations.  More than likely I was reading my own interpretations based on what I imagined about those girls.

          Sometimes, drawing the attention of everyone in the auditorium, Minnie would burst out into a fit of gleeful laughter evoking titters from the assemblage around her.  I almost envied them because they seemed so happy.   Happy about something.  Or amused.   Maybe they were laughing at the rest of us.  None of us knew because none of us associated with those girls.

           In fact, once the school day started I don't recall ever seeing Minnie for the remainder of the day.  Sometimes I might see Betty Rose passing alone through the hallways, ignoring the mean comments from the boys she passed.  She was like a silent specter disappearing into the crowds between classes.   In the mornings she seemed to be a part of a group, but the rest of the day she appeared to be on her own without a friend anywhere.

         Those girls were all in grades below me so that might have been one reason I never encountered any of them during the course of the school day.  Then again, maybe they passed or were there in plain sight and I didn't see them.  After all these were not the in-crowd girls or even the girls that any of us might want to get to know.   I would have never said anything mean to any of them, but there were the students that didn't think twice about hurling insults or making what they thought were funny remarks to show off in front of the other students.  For my part, Betty Rose, Minnie, and all of their circle of friends were the morning crew who for the rest of the day were people I tried not to think about.

         After I graduated, at the end of the following year,  my sister, who was in the grade below me--the same one as Betty Rose and Minnie--brought home the graduation edition of the school paper.   The tradition for this edition was for the departing seniors to publish their "wills" to the incoming seniors of the year to come.  Each graduating senior would will some funny item, give some words of advice, or have some bit of wisdom to offer to the those who would be the next crop of seniors.

            As I perused those words of the graduating class members I came to what Betty Rose had to say.   After so many years I cannot recall her exact words, but she said something to this effect:

"My wish is for all students to have consideration for each other and not to say hurtful things."

I'm pretty sure she worded it more eloquently, but whatever her words were, my heart stopped for a moment and tears came to my eyes.

         How much meanness had she patiently had to endure in her years of high school?   What kind of life had she faced?   I thought of Minnie and her cheerfulness on the outside.  What kind of pain had she felt?   Those other girls who I now don't remember.   They were all part of the club of exiles, rejected by peers, but clinging together in whatever it was they had in common.  What had happened to all of them?

         Some forty years later I got a copy of a school alumni directory. This is one of those directories where the compilers make an attempt to contact every alumnus of the school to collect data about their spouse, number of kids, occupation, and so on.  Having lost touch after so many years I was curious about those with whom I had attended high school.   I guess a good many others were equally curious.

          After I received my directory in the mail, I spent a good bit of time looking up those folks from my past to see where they were now and how their lives compared to mine.  When I came to Minnie's name there was no indication that she had ever been married or had any children.  She still lived in the area and for occupation the listing indicated that she was a care provider for the elderly.

          Betty Rose was not listed in the main part of the directory.   Looking in the index where all students were listed by graduation year I found Betty Rose's name listed.  She was among those few designated as "Address Unconfirmed".   This meant that she had either not filled out the information request that had been sent to her or she had never received one.

          Another pang of sadness welled within me.   Had high school been so painful for her that she had tried to run away or forget it after so many years?   What had happened to her after graduation and had the experience of high school scarred her in later life?   I suppose I'll never know.   I don't know if anyone else cares whether they know or not.    Betty Rose might even prefer that no one ever knows what happened to her.   I hope things turned out well for her.

         Do you remember any of the outcast students in your school?   Do you know what happened to any of those students?    Did you ever befriend any students who were treated poorly by others?  

Betty Rose and Minnie (Part One)

Everett High School Auditorium

        Recently over at Robin's Your Daily Dose blog, she's been doing some life reflecting with a Soundtrack of My Life series.  I've done similar posts over the years on this blog as well as on Tossing It Out on topics related to music and how it has connected with certain parts of my life. This is a fun way to prompt memories to inspire life writing.  If you're interested in doing some of your own Soundtrack posts go over Robin's blog to let her know so she can add your link to the list that she's compiling of others who are doing the same.

        In one of Robin's posts she discussed bullying and the cruelty that kids burden other students with during those fragile-to-the-ego times of middle and high schools.   Reading her post took me back to my school days. I never had much trouble with being harassed or bullied when I was younger.   I was quiet and mostly kept to myself. My physical stature was not such that it emanated any sense of ferocity, but I apparently came across to any of the tougher guys as someone who might be one they wouldn't want to put to the test.  Never once in my life have I been involved in any physical altercation that anyone could label as being "a fight".

       During my high school years in Tennessee, my daily schedule consisted of being dropped off at the school by my father about a half hour prior to first class.  Usually I'd go into the auditorium with its wooden floors worn from the decades of the feet of students that had preceded me.  The cavernous space reeked of history and must.  My chosen place to which I would retreat nearly every morning of the three years during which I attended this school was in the middle of the section on the left side of the auditorium.   Fewer students sat in this area which made it more attractive to me.

        Over the years a certain clique of guys like me chose this middle left area as our place to sit while waiting for school to start.  We were somewhat nerdy I suppose, but mostly we were the isolated guys who didn't congregate in the smoking area outside behind the auditorium or in one of the other areas where the more popular kids were engaged in the happening social scene or the business of high school activity.   The guys I associated with when I wasn't reading, studying for a test, or catching up with homework were those who seemed to chatter aimlessly about topics I now forget.  Sometimes one of them might have a joke to tell but I don't remember those either.  We mostly just talked to avoid the silence, but never really got to know each other very well.  There were few that I could really call friends, but we were just guys who happened to be thrown together in the same place at the same time with the same sense of wanting to belong somewhere.

        If I didn't have my focus on something I was reading or listening to one of the other guys ramble with idle talk, my eyes would peruse the rest of the auditorium.  Throughout there were clusters of other students who like those in my part of the seating seemed to be in the same places most of the days.  Some I knew from the classes I had with them though they were students I didn't really know to the extent that I ever talked to them.   Others were students that I'd seen but had no idea about their names or anything about them.   We were an assemblage, disparate, yet thrust together in this awkward circumstance of institutional education.   The friendship potential was always there, but rarely sought.

        My attentions would be variously drawn to different groups at different times depending on whatever activity was occurring that might catch my eyes.   It may have been a burst of laughter or some notable noise.   Perhaps the movement of bodies gravitating towards some particular spot in the room would cause me to turn and follow them to whatever group they would join.  There were people that I might have liked to have known better, but my insecurities kept me from reaching out to them.

        That was the auditorium in the morning.  Students in their clusters of safety.  Refuge from those social circles that might possibly reject anyone from the outside if they tried to become close to them.  Eyes stole occasional furtive glances to the other groups with equal parts suspicion and curiosity.  Who was talking about whom or even ostracizing those in the groups across the room?   Perhaps no malice was ever intended or even felt by any in the other groups, however the paranoia of being a social pariah was ever in the backs of many minds.

         And then there was that odd little group of girls at the right front of the auditorium.   Sitting at the center of the group like the queen was Minnie.  Nearby was Betty Rose, generally acknowledged to be the ugliest girl in our school.   This strange assemblage of outcast females was the group that perhaps intrigued me the most...

(To be continued next Saturday May 23rd)

        When you were in high school did you have a special place where students would wait before classes began?    Did you have a special group with whom you would hang out most of the time?     How many close friends did you have in high school?

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School Days: Building Who We Are

Adolescence 

           In this post we continue to consider The Stages of Life for the Purpose of  Memoir.   My previous post, Memories of Baby Life:  Do We Have Accurate Recall?, looked at the formative years that shape the basis of how we see ourselves and how we perceive that others see us.  I think it would be accurate to say that the preschool years form the foundation of who we are.

Building a Person

         If those baby years are the foundation, the educational years are the time when we build upon that foundation. Our education consists of honing our mental faculties and learning social skills.   Prior to school, most of us probably experienced relatively sheltered lives where we felt like the center of a universe that primarily consisted of our families, relatives, and other people with similar background.   After our first day of school our world becomes radically changed.

         Now we are thrust into a social environment that forces us to interact with teachers and other children.  It becomes more difficult to run to the security of home and parents.  We learn to cope and become more independent.  Most of us adapt pretty readily--it's either swim with the flow or try to cling to whatever it is we hope will save us.  Adaptation may vary depending on the foundation that was established in early life.  Some kids have a tougher time than others, but they're all in it together.

         These school years are where the memories start becoming clearer and more organized.  Since we are older and have more experience with life, we understand things better and can put what is happening in life in better perspective.  We usually will develop friendship relationships that can last for many years and in some cases into later life.  The basics of getting along with others and dealing with conflict on our own begin developing early on and grow as the educational years continue.   Some will fall short in these endeavors, but most of us manage.

         The daily educational curriculum forces us to learn new skills and gain new knowledge that will assist our intellectual development.   Our aspirations of what we want to be after we graduate and become adults may come into clearer focus.   We are aware of our abilities and interests.

          The school years are rich in activities and milestones that stand out in our minds.  Stories about the events become ingrained within us to be told years later.  Much of our memory will hopefully be happy or interesting, however some may be hurtful and even traumatic.  The events all become the narrative of the years of education.

Mining for the Memories

         I can recall a great deal of my student years, but I have probably forgotten more than I can remember. This is a time of life when I can't always ask a family member about what happened because often they weren't there.  But that is always a good place to start.  Some of the memories will be shared experiences while other memories may be second hand or something they can relate to their personal memories.

         One of the best prompts for each school year are my class pictures.  When I was younger I wrote down names of students who I remembered on the pictures.  Those names can be easy to forget over the years and having written the names can revive memories when I look at those pictures.  My high school yearbooks are especially valuable to stimulate the nerve endings of my recall.

         Another help is that I have saved many old school papers and documents.  Report cards and official school records can be very useful.   Copies of the high school newspaper have reminded me of things that I had totally forgotten.   It would be impractical to try to save everything from those years and I have culled out much that did not seem would ever be useful.  However, I have kept many school papers, tests, and drawings that can take me back to that time long ago.

           Unfortunately, other than school pictures, I don't have many other photos of the school years.  My mother may have some, but I have not seen those for many, many years.  I'll have to check one day to see what she still has.   Old photos are by far one of the best helps in remembering years gone by.

           Some things I do have are souvenirs, mementos, and collections.  A post card collection that I started when I was young recounts family vacations and other milestones.  My stamp collection is something I spent many hours organizing when I was in my years before high school.  It's been many years since I've looked at it in depth, but I can guarantee that if I were to break it out and comb through it many memories would be stirred.

           What are some things that you still have from your school years?   Did you keep a diary that you still have?   Do you have mostly good or bad memories of the school years?   Or do you remember much at all?