Back in School

Somehow, the combined elementary/high school I attended has shrunk; it used to be be so much larger. I came to this conclusion last week after attending our all-school reunion. It was great going through the building where I received 12 years of education with dear friends who have never left my mind in the 33 years since I left.

As we went into each classroom we laughed, each of us sharing a different memory. Were we really that crazy? Poking screens out of the second floor window with pointy sharp sticks when we were supposed to be out for recess. Hiding students in a closet as the teacher wondered why they hadn't returned from recess. Calling a teacher by his first name is not a good thing to do unless you are looking for five detentions. Sneaking food out of the refrigerator in the home economics room during study hall. (And wondering why that teacher never noticed why we always chose the table closest to the refrigerator or why there was coconut on the floor after we left.)

And though quiet in the halls, it seemed as though that familiar going-from-class-to-class noise still lingered.

We pondered over some of our teachers and wondered what happened to them.

There was our third grade teacher who seemed as ancient as a dinosaur then. She had an obsession for clean hands; nothing wrong with that, really, now that I think about it. She required us each to have a finger nail file to keep in our desk. Every morning she had a hand and fingernail check and if someone wasn't meeting her standards, they were sent to the bathroom for a good scrubbing - a good chance to get out of class.

She was so good at inspections, she probably went on to be an underwear elastic inspector after she retired.

And there was the male sixth grade teacher. I think they got him from the Adolph Hitler-wanna-be camp. He wore a class ring the size of Rhode Island and if anyone got out of hand in his classroom, he would give them a knock on the head with it. It's surprising none of the kids ended up with brain damage. He probably went on to work in a rock quarry, busting rocks with his ring, after landing in prison.

And the first grade teacher who wrote on my report card that she didn't think I'd ever have any friends, calling me bossy. (I haven't changed from that description - moms are supposed to be bossy!)

I doubt if she ever went on to become a motivational speaker.

They were great growing up years - we all agreed that Round Lake, Minn. was the best place to grow up.

We have changed physically in those years but somehow our eyes were invisible to that. To these friends - we hadn't changed at all. And it really didn't seem like we had been apart for more than a week end. (Some of the classmates at this reunion were ones I hadn't seen since graduation day.)

Conversations of success weren't nearly as important; memories we shared were. There were many hugs shared - even with those we weren't close with in school but we shared the excitement of being back together in that building.

I like reunions, it always gives me a chance to review my past, even though we questioned some of the things we did, with friends I don't want to forget. And they always makes me feel young again - and that's something I haven't been for a long time.