At 42 years of age, I am long out of elementary school. But with just a thought I can call up the butterflies launched into flight each year in recognition of the first day of school. I grew up here in Walnut Creek, and Walnut Acres was my school. The weeks before school was to begin, the excitement began to build. My mother would take my sister and me shopping for new clothes. We would get five or six new dresses (girls were not allowed to wear pants to school). We each got a new package of pretty colored underwear and a new pack of white undershirts with little bows sewed onto the bodice. My mother would take me to the Junior Bootery, the only store that carried wide width shoes for my chubby little feet, and I would get one pair of school shoes to last the whole year.
Class assignments were mailed in August, and every day I would ask if mine had come yet. There was some anxiety associated with this, anticipating the unknown. I can still remember every teacher, from Mrs. Anderson in kindergarten to Mrs. Templeton in 6th grade. Back in those days elementary school was K through 6. As soon as I knew what teacher I was assigned, I would call my friend Christy to see who she had. My mother would check with Mrs. Seamount across the street to see which class her son Brian was in. The last week of the summer, we would go to the school to find my new classroom. Then my mother would take me back to the entrance of the school, and have me find the classroom again on my own. I would try to peak in the windows, and gaze at the door. What would it be like? Would I have any friends in my class? Was the teacher nice?
The day before the big event, I would pick out my first day outfit. Everything would be laid out, waiting. I had a new book bag, paper, pencils, and erasers all ready to go. And of course, a special new lunch box. One year I had a Monkees lunchbox. Another year, we bought a plain brown vinyl lunch pail with a zippered closure, and my mother put violet appliqués all over it. It was beautiful. Fresh from the bath, my damp hair neatly braided, I got to select a new pair of undies, and put on one of my new white undershirts to wear to bed. It would still be hot in September and we didn’t have air conditioning, so the window was open. I could hear the crickets. It wouldn’t be quite dark yet, and Mommy would let us color in bed for a few minutes. But I could never focus on my coloring book. My heart would beat a little faster than normal, and I would feel funny in my tummy. Surely I could never sleep.
And here I am, years later, graying hair and all, still just as excited. Only this time, it is my children who are going to school. The routine has changed some since I was a child. My children get many new outfits. They get new shoes, but I do not expect them to last the whole school year. Girls and boys can both wear shorts to school. Book bags have been replaced with backpacks. But still, it is a thrill to pick just the right backpack. Should it be Hello Kitty or Barbie? Ninja Turtles or Scooby Doo? And of course a new lunchbox, in the same theme.
First day outfits are still carefully selected and laid out for the next day. Flowered undies, Scooby Doo briefs, are tugged out of plastic packages. Each child has a big bag of school supplies, as requested on the list from the school. Clean and smelling of baby shampoo, they climb into bed. A book or a video is allowed for just a little bit, because it is so hard to go to sleep this night!
The morning of the first day of school is the only day of the year I don’t have to take a steam shovel to get my daughter out of bed. She is up before I am, gets dressed without a single nag, and is waiting at the door for me. The rest of the year we barely make it to school on time, even though we live just down the street, but this one day she is ready to go and we are early. I pull all three kids out to the front porch, and take our traditional “First Day of School” picture. Happy scrubbed faces, new outfits and shoes, still stiff backpacks and unscuffed lunchboxes. They are precious.
And I am excited. Excited to meet the new teachers, to see what kids are in their classes, to learn what field trips there will be and see the new books. Excited because my children are excited. Because I get to be part of these days they will remember for the rest of their lives. It is a privilege. And each year, as I escort my little ones to their first day, I think “How lucky I am!” This is the stuff life is made of.