just happened to be in the neighborhood…
A K I D A G A I N
My grade school went the way of many other Catholic schools the last couple decades. Kaput. The attached church has since closed, too, and the property purchased by a congregation whose church had burned down.
But for me it will always be Field Day and trying to keep a hula hoop in motion for as long as possible. The crapshoot that was picking teams in gym class and the determination to finally climb the damn rope suspended from the ceiling. Tiny sinks and toilets in the tiled bathrooms, which always smelled of institutional hand soap. The janitor’s closet, that crowded and mysterious place—and the source of that orange disinfectant powder that was called into service when some poor nauseated student only made it as far as the hallway. Recess on the cracked blacktop, playing double dutch and red rover. Bobby socks. Miss V’s candy jar. The Twinkle Shop to pick out little tchotchkes for gift exchange with the family. And the Christmas kit. Because there’s nothing like taking a cardboard briefcase full of clunky stuff around to the neighbors’, like an up-and-coming door-to-door salesman, to convince them that you have just what they need for the holidays.
Does your grade school still exist in its original form? When’s the last time you visited? Do you have more positive or negative memories?
Defunct Grade School Texture