Elementary

For months now, I've been nearly finished with this book, finding five-minutes spurts here and there to read before bed. In what may have been the first or second section of the book, Anne Lamott mentions Kindergarten as a topic to get your brain flowing. I tried this exercise myself, and couldn't believe what I still retained from my Kindergarten days.

...

I find it astounding that I still remember the way my kindergarten class smelled. All Crayola crayons and fresh construction paper, tables set up across from one another, teeny-tiny chairs.

Mrs. Anderson was my teacher- a petite black lady who wore pretty lipstick shades and twisted her hair into a cute up-do. Miss Wise was the assistant teacher, both of them motherly, caring, and helpful to us little baby ants. For some of us (me), this was the first time we'd been away from our comforting little anthills and in some other strange territory.

One of the many painfully cute things about early elementary school was the pinning-onto-shirts of important notes and such. I wonder how that straight pin wasn't too much of a poking hazard for us little ones, and if things are handled differently now. I know how rules are always forming and reforming. I recall how Mrs. Anderson's perfume-lotioned hands smelled, carefully pinning on my day's note which could not be lost and was it's safest on my shirt.

Walking in a single file line had to be learned quickly. We walked in lines for eons in grade school, careful not to stray, messing up the beauty of the child bodies in structure. Shuffling along to our next destination; the playground, restrooms, lunchroom, art trailer (personal favorite), the chorus trailer (second favorite). The walks from place to place seemed like a long, adventurous trek.

Something else still clear in my memory are those semi-frightening fire drills. I always worried that perhaps our planned evacuation destination wasn't quite far enough from the building of possible flame and disaster. I was a worried child. Were these adults sure about what they were doing? Were flames one day going to come roaring out at me on the playground? I always imagined the building bursting into flames during the drill. I wonder what that means..

After all was said and done, we'd return to our tables in single-file, safe and trained. I'd get back to my little table and felt shapes, surrounded by fresh, crisp paper and cigar style crayon boxes.
And of course, the soothing smells I think I'll always remember.