“Memory is more incredible than ink.”
The morning is cloudy and will stay that way all day as rain is expected tonight. It’s warm out and that warmth will continue and be most welcomed. We’ll be close to 70° by mid-week, and I’ll be frolicking on the deck. Okay, I don’t really frolic.
I would love to visit my elementary school, the old school not the new school. I know I’ve mentioned it was the neatest place. There were high ceilings and long windows in each classroom. The corridor walls were dark wood. Right as you walked in the door you faced a huge set of wooden stairs with each stair sloped in the middle from years of use. The stairs led to the classrooms, and from the very top floor, you could look down to the very bottom. I’d take my camera and stop at my first grade classroom. It was huge, or at least it looked that way to me. The famous cloakroom was outside that classroom and two doors, one on each side of the room, led to it. We used to go by rows to fetch our coats and boots. I remember one set of windows looked out at the narrow road on the side of the school we seldom used. The other set faced the schoolyard. I have a sorts of memories from that first grade classroom. I think they were etched in my brain from the fear I felt being in school away from my mother and facing Sister Redempta.
My next stop for pictures would be at the very bottom, in the basement. When we needed to go to the bathroom, we asked to go to the basement for that was where the bathrooms were. From the top floor that meant a hike up and down all the stairs including a separate set only to the bathrooms. The boys’ room was on one side of the basement near the trash bins and the furnace. When I was on the drill team, that’s where our equipment was stored, and it was the first time I got a peek at the boys’ side. On the girls’ side was not only the bathroom but also an open room with benches where I sometimes had my brownie meetings. The room was below ground and had only small, narrow windows around the top sides of the room. The doors in the bathroom were wooden ones painted gray. Its ceiling was filled with pipes running across from one side of the room to the other. I remember they were painted white and seemed always to be peeling.
I am constantly amazed at what gets saved in my brain.
Explore posts in the same categories: MusingsTags: Basement, Elementary school
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
October 25, 2010 at 1:54 pm
My first class room was at the top floor. I remember the sloping roof and that I had the window behind my back. Later on I sat so I could look out from it. After that I always sat beside a window if it was possible.
I think the stairs were made of red lime stone and in them I could see fossils from long gone sea creatures. I think all old schools have that lime stone in their stairs 🙂 But what I remember best is the smell of chalk. I have always loved it 🙂
Have a great day now!
Christer.
October 25, 2010 at 11:20 pm
Christer,
I liked being near the window too. It gave me something to do when I was bored.
I too loved the smell of chalk which kids today know nothing about with all the white boards.
October 25, 2010 at 6:17 pm
I remember our first grade class building was big. I remember the playground more as it backed onto woods which I liked. When it wasn’t your turn to play basketball you could play cops and robbers in the trees by the tarmac. That I remember probably because it was fun. I really don’t remember where the bathrooms were. Not in the woods or that I would have rememebered. I have a better memory of my fifth grade school, high on a hill and L shaped with a grounds that merged with Little Hunting Creek Park. Now that was a school. We went home, then back to the school grounds to play the rest of the afternoon. We even met our Teachers again as they were going home.
October 25, 2010 at 11:23 pm
Z&Me,
I went to St. Pat’s from the first through eighth grade but I was all over the place. The third grade was in the rectory basement while for half of the fifth grade was in another town then we got to move into the new school.
My sister told me next year is the 150th anniversary of thee old school so maybe I’ll get to go back to see it.
October 25, 2010 at 8:13 pm
Then comes the day when you need someone to follow you, sweeping up the stuff that fell out when you weren’t paying attention. Like the pheasant plucker.
Cheers
October 25, 2010 at 11:24 pm
Minicapt,
I’m getting to the point where I’ll need someone to pick up and another to point out where I’m headed.