School Daze

As most of you know John and Will started school last year. In fact they are going to the same school I went to from K-8. Walking those halls and stepping into my old class rooms has brought back a lot of memories. I get to relive some of them just by watching the looks on my sons faces. Some experiences are different. Last year I dropped them off to start Kindergarten at almost the exact same spot my mother stood and and said good bye to me exactly 30 years before. The difference is John and Will were much braver than me. The salt from my tears is still in that soil.

Today they started 1st grade. John in fact, is in the class room that I had 3rd grade in. This room has history for me. History that has stayed only in the farthest corners of me. I should say not just a class room, but also a tree. A tree we planted, as a class, 28 years ago. I wondered if the tree was still there? I wondered if anyone would know why it was there? I wonder now why I care so much? Is it because I am feeling sentimental or is it that an 8 year old doesn't know how to process these kind of emotions and they have been waiting for me to deal with them? Triggered by walking my son to school.

You see that class room was where I first learned that somebody I knew had died. She was a class mate I had known since preschool. I had gone to her birthday party. The only boy in fact, I thought it meant something. We had all come back from spring break but her desk was still empty. It took almost another week before our teacher told us. She was traveling with her family and was in a car accident and was killed instantly. As a memorial we had a fund raser and had a plaque made to honor her memory and planted a tree in the courtyard just out side of our classroom. The tree is still there. The plaque is still there and apparently so is a small part of my youth.