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It
was my very first day at school. I was terrified. My
grandmother had told me to be a brave little girl and march
into the school with courage. She also told me that if I
were to get lost just ask somebody to show me room 10
because that was my classroom and once I got there
everything would be al right. I had gone to school with
Renee, my childhood friend, but we knew we were to be
separated because she was going to room 8 while I was going
to room 10. There were three grade one classes in that
school in 1961,
and
I was lucky that at least Renee's class was just beside
mine. That way I couldn't get lost.
To
this very day I suffer from a case of poor spacial
awareness, unless I know exactly where I am going or have
practiced the route before, I am afraid that I will get
lost.
It
was worst in 1961, because I really would get lost. I was
never allowed off the back balcony to play with the
neighbourhood children in the back yard. The only time I
went into the yard was with my dog Laddie, who guarded me
like I was the Hope Diamond. I never had a chance to explore
my environment and develop the skills needed to navigate
myself through it.
I
can't tell you how terrified I was when Renee and I went
very confidently up the stairs to our classroom. Well she
was confident, I was just confident I was with her. All of a
sudden, in no time at all we were separated. I don't even
know how it happened. I was lost. I looked around for Renee
but couldn't find her. Then I saw her enter a classroom, and
so I was smart enough to realize that I couldn't go with
her. She was in room 8 and I was in room 10.
I
panicked, nobody prepared me for this one. I knew Renee was
in room 8 but I didn't know she was going to leave me to my
own demise. I started to cry. There were all these kids
around me and I was standing out in group of strangers. I
didn't see any adults at that point. So I just chanted over
and over again through my tears, is this room 10? is this
room 10?
Out
of nowhere came a large pair of hands that just grabbed me
and pushed me into a line of children. Through my tears I
again asked this harrowing figure is this room 10? The
figure ignored me and commanded all the children to enter
the classroom and take a seat.
I
was still crying but there was no consoling for me, the
figure ignored me completely. She commenced her class while
I still didn't know if I was in room 10. I am Miss Appelaize,
she said and I am your teacher. I am going to call out your
names now and I want you to say "here" when you hear your
name being called out. So she commenced, Avery, Joseph,
Belman, Steven, Buckingham, Carol. I managed to give out a
very weak "here". I no longer asked if it was room 10.
Elementary school was a traumatizing experience for me and
by the time I was a mother and ready to send my son to
school. I wanted to spare him the pain and uncertainty that
I had gone through that first day. I took him to school,
even though I had to take time off of work to do it. He was
not going to go with a friend that later on would desert
him. He
knew
that I was going to make sure that he was safely in his
classroom before I left him to the charge of his teacher and
he knew that I would be waiting for him that first day when
his class was over. Though my son attended the same
elementary school as I did, and it now was 1980, I made sure
he was never going to have to ask somebody if this was room
10.
?©
2003 Carol Roach
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Blessings to you. Have a great day.
Bob Johnston
Minneapolis
Starfish @ Ripplemaker.com
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