I was a WALKER. I’m sure there was no coincidence between my loving the first six years of school when I got to walk to and from every day and the decline of my interest when the day started and ended with the dreaded BUS ride in sixth grade. Ah, but those days at Huth Road Elementary – they were bliss…
Hands down, my favorite days were the rainy ones, using my oh so cool clear bubble umbrella decorated with a red Stop, a yellow Yield and green Go. I fell in love with the seasons as a walker, each one carrying its own delight. Spring was a rolling sea of dandelions that covered lawns and the school grounds, Fall brought the crunching of leaves under my feet and the deep beautiful colors they gave off. Winter was cold and bare, but allowed me to catch snowflakes on my tongue and pretend to taste different flavors for each one. Summer was just sad. The end of the school year and the long two month wait to endure until the next school year began.
Huth Road Elementary was a magical place. I loved lying awake during nap time in kindergarten, all quiet in the classroom with the lights turned off. The library held more books than I’d ever seen and they were all mine for the reading. On those favorite rainy days, inside the classroom with the fluorescent lights on and the darkness outside, it felt safe and warm and calm. Teacher’s pet? Usually. Receiver of the coveted “H” pin for academic achievement? Absolutely. Even made it into the safety patrol in the fifth grade – no small feat for someone as meek and un-authoritative as I was. But oh, that bright orange sash made up for any of the discomfort I felt at keeping the kids at my door “in line” until it was time to enter and to remind them “not to run” when we got left at the end of the day. Big responsibilities!
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| Abram's Twin Brige Span Masterpiece! |
My husband went to Huth Road as well (although rode the bus poor thing….) And then, a little over 20 years later, our son Abram went there too. And seeing as how we live one street away from where I grew up, he’s was a walker too. How’s that for small town life? He even had one or two of the same teachers.
I was not prepared for what I felt when I walked back into the school as an adult. As a parent. To sit in the auditorium for a concert in the same chairs that my parents sat in to watch me. To walk the hallways and view the mosaic pattern walls from a totally different height, changing the perspective of the picture. To leave a note in his desk for him to find the morning after the open house just like my mom did. Running my fingers over his name, written in big block letters, on an apple or a flower and taped to his locker made me feel like an imposter.
It all seemed so small. So far away. Just slightly off kilter. And then, slowly, it came back to me. The safety – the warmth – the sense of calm. It was as if I were handing Abram over to the arms of a loving friend. And I was. After all, this was Huth Road Elementary. It knew us well.
