Today is another lovely fall day. The sun is shining, but clouds are predicted for later. It is 61°. The breeze is every now and then and is strong enough to blow the leaves at the ends of the branches. The dogs romped this morning.

I remember so much, and if I close my eyes, I can see pieces of my childhood. My third grade classroom is intact in my memories. We were in the cellar of the rectory with the walls and the floor painted and tables and chairs about the room. A clock was the only wall ornament. I remember my seat was at the last table in a chair not against the wall. My nun’s desk was across from the door and facing all of us. We kept our books in the center of the table while lunches and book bags went under the chairs. We used to line up in the middle of the room to go outside. We had to walk beside the cars in the garage. It was a strange place for a classroom, but we never minded. It was as if we were in our own school.

I remember the eighth grade. My room was on the second floor. My seat was by a window overlooking the school yard. A bookcase lined the wall under the windows. I used to hide candy in the bookcase beside my seat. I’d covertly eat it during the day. Later, I got more brazen and kept my transistor radio in the bookcase. I’d listen through ear buds and hide the buds with my hands. One day as I was listening and eating, I got called on. I pulled the candy out of my mouth but wasn’t fast enough to take out the air buds. Sister Hildegard thought I was hard of hearing and raised her voice. I almost laughed out loud. Later, she changed all our seats, and I was in the front desk of the second row. She never remembered my hearing problem, and I couldn’t hide my candy or music anymore.

I can still see the classroom block and my classroom at Women’s Training College in Bolgatanga where I taught. The windows had no glass. They did have shutters. We sometimes had to close them when the rains were heavy. The door was an opening. Once in a while a goat would make its way inside the room. We’d just keep going. The goat always left. There were small wooden tables and chairs. Each table held two students. The chalk board was at the front of the room. Some of it had cracks. I wrote around them. My desk was in front of the board. In my memory drawer is the most vivid picture of that classroom. It will always be with me.

This entry was posted on October 21, 2025 at 1:13 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.