Every afternoon around 4 pm if I’m sitting at a particular spot in my home, I can see the middle school students from Fort Clarke walking home from a long day of learning. Most if not all, have backpacks jammed with every school book in their locker causing them to lean forward as though they are climbing a steep hill. They make me think back to my school days and how very different it was.
My book carrier in junior high and high school was a vinyl zippered three-ring notebook. With a pocket on the front inside for pencils, a sharpener, a change purse, etc., subject dividers separating the lined notebook paper, and room for a couple books, I had everything I needed for the day. Extra books lay across the top, and I carried them hugged to my chest, which discouraged running. I usually decorated the outside of the vinyl with flowers, hearts and dubious initials. In study hall, I tried to complete the homework assigned in the heaviest books to make my load a little lighter.
I always rode the school bus home happy to be the last one picked up in the morning and the first one dropped off in the afternoon. Seat friends were always older or younger since no one in my class rode my bus. I can remember watching for the yellow bus in the mornings, seeing the headlights coming through the fog sometimes and hurrying across the yard to be in my spot before the bus got there. I don’t think I could make it up that tall step today if my life depended on it!
I remember that vinyl tan notebook spread open on my desk in Biology, colored pencil in hand, ready to sketch out on notebook paper a frog that we were about to dissect. The room smelled of formaldehyde and the frog was not green as I had expected but a mottled beige color. I was happy to let my partner do the cutting up as I drew Mr. Frog and all its parts. Mr. Horst, our teacher who I seem to remember being there only one year, walked around the room eyeballing what everyone was doing. He discouraged shenanigans with a frown and a very serious demeanor, and it worked.
My Biology classroom was on the second floor in a corner room of the building with lots of windows for light, and it was always on my morning schedule. After, I remember going through the double doors and down the concrete steps to study hall in the library which was directly below. In my Freshman year (9th grade), my guidance counselor, Mr. Rutledge, talked me into running for Student Council treasurer, and it was during one of these study halls that I made my first political posters. One I remember in particular. It was an anagram of the word “treasurer”, T for trustworthy, R for reliable, E for earnest and so on. I won that election but my most vivid memory is how sad my opponent, Janie Phillips, looked when the results were announced. I don’t remember celebrating at all.
Across from the library was our big auditorium, and it was there that we held all our extracurricular activities, Friday night dances, plays, holiday celebrations, cheerleading practice and, of course, morning assemblies if something special was going on. We always sang the State song, Our Delaware, at the end and I can remember being proud to be a Delawarean, the very first State to ratify the Constitution of the United States of America, “Oh our Delaware, our beloved Delaware!”
In my mind’s eye I can see my best friend, Sandra, on stage in her role as Lady Macbeth saying “Out out damn spot!” I hear Dion singing Runaround Sue as I jitterbug with another friend, Nancy, and we laugh and surreptitiously search for our current crushes on the crowded dance floor. I see Mrs. Fry, our football cheerleading coach, frowning as our jumps are not high enough, big blue H’s on our sweater fronts.
Funny how a student coming home with a backpack can trigger so many childhood memories. That tan zippered notebook may be long gone, the frog drawing discarded years ago, and the vote-for-me poster forever lost, but the girl who loved drawing, learning and cared about people hopefully remains recognizable today.
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