Do you still remember the feeling when you set foot for the first time in a classroom? A mixed emotion - fear, excitement, confused feeling. But excitement seemed to dominate because I was given an orientation by my older siblings that school is nice and we learn a lot there. Besides, there are games and playmates. And when I learned to write my first letter of the alphabet, I cannot forget the feeling, what a sense of accomplishment.
I remember the fun my grand children had on their first day of school and how happy they were to have the new friends to play with. The sense of accomplishment on their little faces when they had completed a new task, like writing their name and reading their first books. I don't know who was the happiest me or them.
I was ridiculously shy. My first day to my last day, and everyday in between was pure fear and misery. I am so glad those days are so far behind me.
I'm sure you are the most happiest. Seeing your grandchildren with their excitement, you would pay anything just to see it again and again. That's one of the reasons why we spend so much, we are happier than the happy children. As for the school, first timers would be preoccupied with the new school bag, the pencil case, the pad of paper as if they already know how to write, and don't forget the small stuff toy that would make them feel secured in the classroom. Here, school service is the order of the day and if you can afford it, you get an air conditioned school van that is almost double the price of an ordinary van. But I guess it's worth the cost.
I have a very vivid and cherished memory of my first classroom. It was not only the excitement of a brand new experience away from home and from my parents, the smell of pencils, notebooks and the heavy leather backpack, much like this But there was another fact; my school was set in a very old building crumbling in pieces, so it was something special in the air anywhere inside the school but particularly in my first classroom; the whole universe was painted in the ceiling of it. It was much like being in traveling across the outer space, but didn't last too long for me. However it was 1966, and the school building was going to be remodeled, but I never knew what happened with my classroom because on that same year we moved to the large house where my mother still lives to date, far from the modest place we lived then. By the way, here there is an article with interesting photos showcasing the evolution of the school backpacks, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/03/backpack-school-bags_n_3860144.html
I don't remember my first school day but I can remember being taken to see the school before I started to attend. In the school hall there was a climbing frame which I was told was called the Jungle Jim (probably Jungle Gym but it was always Jim to me). This caught my attention more than anything and I looked forward to climbing on it when I was attending that school. My worst memory of my first school is the free school milk we were given to drink in our break time. I hated it and it made me feel sick but the teachers would force me to drink it from a third of a pint bottle with a straw. The milk was lukewarm in summer because it was never put in a fridge. This was part of a government health scheme at the time that gave free milk to all children attending schools in England. I have never been able to drink a glass of milk since.
Oh, god, I remember the... awkwardness of it. We were all small children, very shy. The teacher was trying to get us out of our comfort zone, to try and talk to each other. Eventually, we did actually listen to her, and that's when we realized school wasn't as scary as it seemed at first.
I honestly don't remember much of Kindergarten, which was the first grade I attended. However, I do have vivid memories of one particular day when someone came from Old Sturbridge Village or Plimoth Plantation (I don't recall which), and taught us how to churn butter. I have my eye on a product I've seen that creates butter at home. I can't do much cranking/churning myself these days, but am excited at the thought of making butter again one of these days.
Hey all. Here's an excerpt from a novel of mine: "The building was a huge three story brick structure, soon to celebrate it’s first century of being. It was built in a time and maintained with a pride that would surely see its cornerstone adorned with garlands well into its fourth or fifth century of being. The hallways were wide and long, the doorways wide and tall, the windows tall and open, the ceilings open and clean, the classrooms clean and well lit. Little renovation had occurred in the interior, administrative policy having remained fairly consistent over the one hundred years and seven principals serving the community. The community had much pride in their educational system and reflected their pride through their children and their schools. This building housed the grades kindergarten through eighth. A high school had been built twenty-five years earlier, just across the street, students could see the whole of their education, looking either ahead over there or behind over there. Much good came from such an arrangement, as the lower and upper grades supported one another and the education of the people could be considered a continual activity. The high school students still made use of the auditorium and library in the grade school, while the grade school students could take advantage of the gymnasium and swimming pool at the high school. The environments in both were warm and welcoming and entirely conducive to learning. The classrooms in the grade school, clean and well lit, were basically all of the same shape and design. Individuality was reflected in the freedom and encouragement given to the teachers to decorate (in educational fashion) their own rooms. This was the third grade classroom and this was a year in which twenty-five students attended the third grade. The room was a long rectangle; in the western wall were five windows, tall and open, partially shaded by trees, but allowing ample afternoon sunlight to stream in, encouraging young minds to think creatively during their last two hours at their desks. The desks, each with a Formica top and cubby holes to the right for books, were situated in seven rows facing the north-east corner. On the north end of the room was a platform six inches high, upon which sat the teacher’s desk, her chair, and a large table, There were two blackboards, one on the north wall, one on the east wall. A file cabinet sat in the north-east corner, between the two blackboards. The south half of the east wall and the entire south wall, save the door, were covered by bookshelves, full of books and educational items. Three roll-down maps were bracketed over each of the blackboards. Every space on the remaining walls was occupied by student work – compositions, drawings, maps, high scoring tests, science projects. The school teacher believed that by looking at their own work, the students would be encouraged to continue their work. This was, indeed, the philosophy of the administration and of the community." That's based upon what I remember of my first-grade classroom. I actually attended Kindergarten in the new school, but first grade was in the older building while they finished the work on the newer grade school. Also, the desks were those wooden desks with flap tops and I remember they even had holes to put the pot of ink for writing with an ink pen. The seats were part of the desk. Now will have to find a photo to include here, hang on. See the hole in the middle? And the area where you could put your pencils so they would not roll off the desk? Mine was always a mess inside, I hated "clean your desks" day. Used this kind of desk for several years, I think up until fourth grade at least. peace, revel.
We lived 2 blocks away from a public school, so that's where I attended kindergarten. At first I was outgoing and got on fine with other kids. One day, I guess I was talking too much. Teacher taped my mouth shut. After that, I retreated into a shell. My folks yanked me out of that school and sent me to St. Mary's catholic school, about a mile away, all uphill. The first day in the first grade a nun was asking each of us questions. When my turn came, I didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about. So, I stood there and said nothing. She repeated the question several times. I still had no answer. So, out of frustration she slapped me across the chops. DANG ME! In one school I get taped shut for talking. At dear old St. Mary's I get slapped for not talking. I was one scared and confused kid. I went all the way through St. Mary's, graduating from high school in 1958. Every year there went about like the first grade, except in high school I didn't get slapped no more.
I know this is going to sound very negative, but the memories I have of being at school are all the bad ones. Sometimes I will look through my old report cards, and other papers I got from school. I don't even know this person the report cards are describing. Apparently, I used to be a HUGE tattle tale
This reminds me of my husband's first day in school. He was accompanied to the classroom by the housemaid of his grandmother - he was staying with his grandma when he was a pre-schooler so he was enrolled in the nearby school. As he seated himself inside the classroom, he was marveling at his classmates who were so talkative and playful. But my husband is the shy type so he just sat there until the teacher came and did a roll call. That was the time it was discovered that my husband's class was in the other room.
I can remember being a bit annoyed because we were given very elementary reading. My mother had taught me to read before I went to school and my five-year-old mind felt a bit put out at how basic the school stuff was. I'm not suggesting for a moment that I was reading Dostoevsky or anything at that stage, but I do recall being a bit taken aback at the simplistic nature of what was put in front of me.