It’s been a while since I did a Memories post, so here’s another one.
They say you never forget your first day at school. Well I must be strange because I don’t remember the actual first day. What I do remember is general.
I entered a hallway with pegs on either side. Each peg had a picture of an animal next to it. I couldn’t read and neither could the other children, so we recognised our own pegs by the picture.
A motherly lady with white hair greeted us and told us her name was Mrs Rose and that she was our teacher.
I hung my coat on the peg Mrs Rose said was mine then followed her, along with everyone else, through a door on the left of the entrance.
In the classroom were double desks arranged in rows. The walls in this classroom were painted white, and there were windows at the left of the door. I couldn’t see out of them, though, as they were high in the wall.
The school was a Victorian brick building. The windows were pointed arches, a bit like church windows, but without the stained glass. As it was a Church school, that might have been the reason for making it look like a church.
I looked it up yesterday, and the school has apparently been converted to dwellings! At least it’s not been knocked down.
Although only little, 5 years old at the most, I walked the half mile to school with a girl just a couple of years older than me. No adults accompanied us. That sounds terrible in this day and age, but I don’t remember any parents waiting at the school gates. Certainly no cars.
One day, I came out of school and couldn’t see Margaret. I was frightened she’d gone without me and, ignoring the teacher who was seeing the children across the road, I ran out to try to catch her up and was knocked down by a cyclists. Everyone was most concerned. I didn’t get into trouble, though. They were more worried to see if I, or the cyclist, were hurt. We were both alright.
And Margaret hadn’t gone without me.
The reason I was so worried was walking up the hill home. There was a long, high wall with tall trees behind it, and a field with equally tall trees on the other side. This made this part of the walk quite gloomy even on bright days. I was afraid of passing this dark area on my own.
Attached to the wall, just outside the door, was an enamel plaque with a flaming torch depicted on it. It was the sign for a school in those days, mirrored in the road signs until they became international. The torch was the torch of learning.
We used to line up and jump to tap it as high as we could. The person who reached the highest was the winner, of course.
What do you remember about your first school?
Let me know in the comments.
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Dragons Rule OK. V.M.Sang (author) 
America needs to bring back those school experiences.
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I remember walking to school by myself when I was five years old. Most of the kids walked or rode bicycles to school; only those who lived a long distance away got rides to school. I remember my teacher, the classroom, my classmates, the playground, the houses I walked past on my way to and from school. It’s funny how those things make a permanent impression on your mind.
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Yes. Even pupils who lived some distance rarely came by car. Bus was the thing. Often course, not all families has a car, let alone one for mum to take the kids to school inn.Dad would have the family car to go to work.
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True. Even in the solidly middle-class neighborhood where I grew up, most families didn’t have two cars, and most parents had no problem making the kids (even the youngest ones) walk to school. I remember one family who lived down the street from us. Their youngest son was crippled and unable to walk, but the older two kids took him to school every day in a wagon. Today something like that would be unthinkable, but back then no one had a problem with it.
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That’s true. I understand why parents feel they must ferry their kids to school. The world was a safer place then. Not just because of people, but there was much less traffic.
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My first school day was in September (or August) 1953 in the first grade at San Juan Capistrano Elementary next to the famous Spanish Mission in San Juan Capistrano, California. One room for kindergarten (that I was allowed to skip in those days), and other single classrooms for 1st, 2nd and 3rd grades in that small building. My teacher was Miss (or Mrs, I don’t remember) Crumrind (not sure about that spelling either). She was a very nice lady and an excellent teacher who got me started on my grand journey into words and reading. I took to it like a hungry dog. Not so good at penmanship (yes, there was such a thing in those days) and arithmetic but I was quickly reading everything I could get my hands on and I haven’t slowed down yet! Thank God for that little school and Ms. Crumrind! RJ Mirabal (aka RJ The Story Guy)
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Those teachers of the first classes were so important. I wonder how many of them realised just how important they were?
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I recall waking my mother very early in the morning – already dressed in my uniform – for I was so excited about going to school at last! Apart from that first day, I too walked to and from school on my own – my ‘scary’ section was walking along a footpath through a patch of grass taller than I was. I was the only English-speaking child in the school, which was a little awkward at first. There were three grades in one classroom and four in the other. I particularly remember the smell of plastecine softened in the sun.
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Oh, yes. That softened plasticine smeĺ. I’d forgotten about it until now.
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I also went to a church school, but in Prince George, British Columbia. I had to take a quite long ride by bus to school. The bus sometimes broke down, which created anxiety. I also remember the winters as very cold then, with a lot of snow. I see Prince George’s temperature right now is 5 degrees C, and of course I live in balmy Victoria, BC, where spring flowers are in bloom.
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Yes, long bus rides were also a thing. When I changed schools for a different, private primary school, I had a ,ongoing business ride with a change of buses.
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Those were important events (starting school) and it’s no wonder it sticks in your mind. Thanks for sharing those days.
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Mrs Rose, in particular, sticks in my mind. Shecwas lovely to her ‘babies’.
I also remember being really proud that I was now a ‘schoolgirl’.
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Yes, I remember that feeling so well. It was a milestone in growing up.
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