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AUGUST REFLECTIONS ‘07

It’s that time again. Before you know it the swings in the park will be still except for an occasional breeze nudging them gently forward and back. The city pool will be drained and the corner Hawaiian ice stand will be closed for the season. The kids are gearing up to head back to school.

I remember like it was yesterday the mix of feelings that came flooding in the week or so before school began. On one hand, there was excitement about what lay ahead. (Would that cute kid Jerry be in my class again this year?) On the other hand, there was dread. Who will my teacher be? (Please, God… not Mrs. Lemerman.)

There was usually a new pair of shoes to get used to. I’ll never forget the year I started school with a pair of red velveteen saddle oxfords….a fashion statement that should never have been made. And sometimes there was a new dress or two…the kind with big floppy bib-type collars that were always in the way and sash belts that the mean red-haired kid wouldn’t stop yanking on.

I can’t walk through a display of school supplies without waxing a little nostalgic. The old school tablets had grayish paper and a texture so coarse it often contained splinters. Of course, the standard No. 2 lead pencil was a necessity, as well as a big gummy eraser. There were child-size scissors with blunt noses…no points allowed until fourth grade. There was colorful construction paper and a box of Crayons. I always wished for the box of 48, but got the box of 16; and although it’s a little late, one day a couple of years ago when Crayola celebrated their hundred and something birthday, I bought a box of 96 in special “anniversary” packaging and tucked them away…just because.

Although water color paints are now packaged, like everything else, in plastic, when I was a kid they came in a long, metal tin with the brand “Prang” scrawled across the top. The colors were brilliant and the metal box closed with a distinctive snap. I remember the class clown placing the soft bristles of the paint brush under his nose as though he had a mustache and we all giggled predictably.

Then, of course, there was the mandatory search for an empty cigar box to hold all the art supplies. This was particularly problematic because as a Church of God family, we didn’t smoke cigars or know anyone who did. So I had to canvass the neighborhood or beg one from the local drugstore.

I usually started the year with last year’s wooden ruler, and then at some point the fire chief would come in, tell us about fire safety and pass out new ones. (I was never quite sure what twelve-inch rulers had to do with fire safety.)

At some point soon after school began, the Superintendent would bring a gift from the school district for each classroom. One year he brought a huge, brightly colored globe that had raised relief areas where the mountains were. I was impressed. We couldn’t remember Mr. Brunges name, so we referred to him as “the man who brought the world”.

The first couple of weeks were usually pretty uneventful. The teachers were adjusting to the students and likewise the students to the teachers. But all too soon the scholastic honeymoon was over and it was time to get down to business.

I loved reading and spelling and was nearly always one of the last kids standing in the spelling bees; but arithmetic was another story. I seemed to be able to add all right, but subtraction was a bit of a puzzle. I couldn’t tell you how many recesses I remained in my seat toiling over unfinished problems. I just didn’t understand how everyone else finished before me.

One day a friend stopped by my desk to say “meet you on the playground” and glanced down at my paper. I was working the problems the way I always had…make 64 marks on the paper, cross out 37 of them, and then count what was left. (I never said I was bright.) She dropped her jaw and said, “Oooooh, you’re doin’ it the hard way.” I KNEW that! I knew I was doing it the hard way. What I DIDN’T know was the easy way, and before I could ask her, she flitted off to join the others on the playground. Another recess missed.

I wonder how often we as Christians are content to make observations and point out the shortcomings of others without offering any real answers. We make our judgments and comments and then hurry off to the ice cream social as if our holier-than-thou criticism alone were enough. People are struggling, and they need answers. They may be trying to solve life’s problems in the same old way, not realizing Jesus has a better way; or they may be actively trying to pursue a Christian walk, but need someone to come alongside and “tutor” them.

Although, I graduated a long time ago, I’m still in school. This life is a school, and God is always trying to teach me something. I just need to pay attention and learn as much as I can so I can help others … because there may be someone else doin’ it the hard way.

Still learning,

Janice Crow

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