Looking Back at My First Day

As I look at First Day of School photos being posted on Facebook, I am thinking back to when Sister Immaculata welcomed me to my First Day of School, ever. Sixty-two years ago!

I remember wanting to go to school long before I finally walked through the door of Sacred Heart Academy in Texarkana, Texas, on my way to my First Grade classroom. In those days, my Catholic school did not offer Kindergarten. So, I was six-years-old in 1960 when I began school.

I was envious of my older brother, David, who had been in school for some years before he walked me down the halls of Sacred Heart to meet my teacher and my classmates. I wanted to learn something in school.

I do not remember the drive to school. I assume my mother drove us from our “project” apartment to Sacred Heart. I remember David walking me to the classroom and I remember walking into the classroom the very first time. He left for his own classroom after leaving me with Sister Immaculata.

I remember seeing children standing beside or sitting at our little wooden desks. Parents were with some of the children, trying to console those looking frightened and, in some cases, crying. To this day, I know two of the boys and one girl.

I was surprised by how upset some of the children appeared to be. I was also surprised to see parents in the room. I was just happy to be there, dropped off by my big brother.

I sat in my desk quietly, at first, marveling at the circles placed along the chalkboard depicting different colors. And, there were letters stretched out by the chalkboard, too. I was impressed. After a few minutes, though, I just had to ask.

I walked up to Sister Immaculata, who had walked into a little “cloakroom” behind the chalkboard.

I asked, “When are you going to teach me something?”

She replied, “Right after the fire drill.”

I walked back to my desk, somewhat relieved to know that education was headed my way. I did not know what in the world a fire drill was, but I did not ask. All I cared was that I would be going home with more education than I had when I walked in the door.

I was comfortable with a teacher dressed as a nun. I had been seeing nuns for years, already, at what was then David’s school and at our church. All I could see of her was her face and her hands. Everything else was covered in black clothing, largely, except for some white above her forehead and across her chest. The white area is known as a wimple, I think.

I will say that First Grade was one of the best years of my life. I listened intently to Sister Immaculata. I was learning what children today learn much earlier. There was no technology, at all, of course. I was fascinated with the abacus, a counting tool that has been used, from what I have read, since ancient times. If you are not familiar, look it up.

I remember well feeling safe with my teacher and friends in my little Catholic school. I loved our simple playground. I can still remember playing with friends out there. On the other side of the playground was a house where the nuns lived. I found their house to be mysterious. I wondered what it was like where our teachers lived.

This was Texas, but nothing in that building was air-conditioned. I was fine with that. It was 1960 and I had little experience with air conditioning. Our little apartment was not air conditioned, that is for certain. No one in my family had it, as far as I knew.

My old school is long gone. There is nothing there to remind anyone that it ever existed. I am still around. So, are some classmates with whom I stay in touch. This might sound unlikely, but a girl who was my friend there ended up moving to another Catholic school in Tyler, Texas, and I eventually ended up there, too, in school with her. We remain friends today. That is very cool.

I did not know in 1960 that I would remain in school for decades to come. I finally wrapped up my formal education with a master’s in English at Wake Forest University.

I enjoy being around schools. I worked 30 years at Wake Forest. Now that I am retired, I often ride my bicycle to the high school my son and daughter attended. I like watching the academic year progress. I still like visiting the Wake Forest campus, too.

I remain close, in particular, to the elementary, middle school and high school I attended in Tyler after my brother and sister and I were brought to Tyler to live with our mother, who had moved already to Tyler. I look forward to gathering with many of those Tyler classmates soon. But, my first school, where I attended until the middle of Fifth Grade, remains with me. And, I am still grateful to Sister Immaculata, a kind teacher who, indeed, taught me something after that fire drill.