School, by Ray S

     Stories like this have been told endlessly by endless numbers of people just like you and me. But my story is unique because it is my very own.
     I don’t know if the Riverside Central School still stands as I remember it. Then it seemed a monumental structure in the late 19th Century style known as Richardson Romanesque. A flight of wide stairs led up to what seemed like a huge semicircular arched doorway. The spaces within were dedicated to 4th and 5th grades and the auditorium where they held Friday all-school assemblies. 
     A later date addition housed the primary grades and the most wondrous fantasy world (depending on your age; I was 5) called “Kindergarten”. 
     We lived just up the block, but I imagine I was accompanied by my mother to get to school, for as many times to get my confidence established enough so that I could make the morning journeys on my own. Armed with my half pint of orange juice in a little canvas bag lovingly sewn by mother we walked. She even put my name in cross stitch embroidery on the tote bag. 
     Kindergarten was truly a marvelous adventure for everyone. There were two nice ladies there to help us find the right things to play/work with. I later learned that they had the titles of teacher. If there was any sort of rudimentary instruction going on, I cannot recall because I was having too much fun.
     The real learning experience was the process of what is now called “socialization”. Put 14 or 20 four to five year olds together and there’s got to be some kicking, screaming, and tears as well as happy laughter.
     Mid-morning was orange juice time and a short lie down quiet period.
     Then it was back to activities of one sort or another. When I discovered oversized wooden building blocks, I was well on the road to becoming an architect. This was so wonderful until the teacher introduced us to the make-believe grocery store. So much for an introduction to our capitalist consumer centered economy. (Get them started early!)
     There probably is a lot more to tell you about my kindergarten days, but honestly I’ve let you take a peek at the best part and I can’t remember any more anyway. Besides all of this transpired some 85 or 86 year ago and we have to allow as how foggy nostalgia can be given to time, source, and age of that tiny tot with his little canvas orange juice bag.

© 21 August 2017


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