It's back to school time! Back in the day (well, back in my day) the new school year didn't begin until after Labor Day. Times have changed. (I posted my annual Back To School Prayers a few weeks ago.)
I find myself musing on my own first day of school - now over more than seven decades ago...
In September of 1952 my mother walked me to the Maple Street School (above) for my first day in the first grade. This was in the era before pre-school and kindergarten were common, much less mandatory, so this was my entrance into the world of formal education. The Maple Street School was very close to our home: you could see the edge of the school yard and the building's roof from our front door. Still, the walk to that big yellow building seemed a long one that morning. On the way, I remember telling my mother that my stomach felt strange. I probably said my tummy felt funny!) She understood, held my hand a little tighter and said, "Oh, don't worry. That's just butterflies in your tummy."
I panicked! In my already anxious state I tried to figure out how butterflies got in my tummy, why they would want to go there and most of all: how would they get out. My mother realized right away that I was unfamiliar with the phrase so she assured me it was just something people said when they were nervous or excited about something about to happen. Nervous? Yes. Excited? Not so much.
Having made the trek across the street, we entered the building, found my classroom and met Mrs. Wynn, my first grade teacher. In those days, parents had no say in classroom placement so it was the luck of the draw that won me a sweetheart of a middle aged woman who was kind, soft spoken, warm, patient and, I recall thinking, quite beautiful.
I weathered that first day quite well. I'm not sure how the butterflies got out or where they went but by the end of the day they were nowhere to be felt or seen.
Right away I liked school. There were new kids there, plenty to do and lots to learn. Every day Mrs. Wynn led us in "morning exercises" - which had nothing to do with calisthenics. She would read the 23rd Psalm from the King James Version of the bible and lead us all in the Lord's Prayer (Catholics going silent at the closing Protestant doxology). We would then stand to salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance - and this was two years before the words "under God" were added to the Pledge.
Thus began an academic history of 21 Septembers of anticipating "the first day back" for elementary school, junior high, high school, college and graduate school. Most years I did look forward to returning to the classroom but at this point in life I'm pleased, when Labor Day comes 'round, to let others deal with few butterflies in the tummy.
I panicked! In my already anxious state I tried to figure out how butterflies got in my tummy, why they would want to go there and most of all: how would they get out. My mother realized right away that I was unfamiliar with the phrase so she assured me it was just something people said when they were nervous or excited about something about to happen. Nervous? Yes. Excited? Not so much.
Having made the trek across the street, we entered the building, found my classroom and met Mrs. Wynn, my first grade teacher. In those days, parents had no say in classroom placement so it was the luck of the draw that won me a sweetheart of a middle aged woman who was kind, soft spoken, warm, patient and, I recall thinking, quite beautiful.
I weathered that first day quite well. I'm not sure how the butterflies got out or where they went but by the end of the day they were nowhere to be felt or seen.
Right away I liked school. There were new kids there, plenty to do and lots to learn. Every day Mrs. Wynn led us in "morning exercises" - which had nothing to do with calisthenics. She would read the 23rd Psalm from the King James Version of the bible and lead us all in the Lord's Prayer (Catholics going silent at the closing Protestant doxology). We would then stand to salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance - and this was two years before the words "under God" were added to the Pledge.
Thus began an academic history of 21 Septembers of anticipating "the first day back" for elementary school, junior high, high school, college and graduate school. Most years I did look forward to returning to the classroom but at this point in life I'm pleased, when Labor Day comes 'round, to let others deal with few butterflies in the tummy.
I'm content, now, with my seat in the classroom of retired life where I'm still a student, an apprentice, still learning. My curriculum is simple: to study, with wonder and gratitude, the lessons I've learned over 77 years. There's a grand history in those lessons: narratives of joy and sorrow; chapters of of confusion and wisdom; chronicles of accomplishments and failures; accounts of victory and defeat; and footnotes of tears and laughter in a saga, of blessing, sin, mercy and grace. And through it all: the consistent, persistent, mysterious hand of God - whose presence in my story grows ever more clear the more I review and study for my final, final exam.
Oh, and there's homework, too - but it's simple. There's only one book, the scriptures, and the assignment's not hard to complete: just simple, daily, prayerful reflection on the Word of God -and on all memories of how God's Word took flesh: in my family, my friendships, my loves; in my stretching and growing, my yearning and hoping; in my heart, my soul and my prayer; in the twists and turns and ups and downs of the journey I call my life; in the thousands of ways God's been by my side to guard me, guide me and gently lead me home, to peace, forever.
Well, it's been a long time since my mother took me by the hand and walked me to the Maple Street School. Now it's the Teacher who holds my hand, walks by my side and calms my worries and fears. And I've learned (sometimes the hard way) that when I walk with my hand in the Lord's hand, his wisdom shines as the light on my path and the the lesson I learn, day by day, more and more is the truth of God's merciful love for me.
