It’s hard to believe that school will start again next week – short summer, to say the least. I dare say, one of the shortest on record, so it seems. The kids are trying to get one last swimming party in to their before-school-starts-schedule. The parents are buying clothes/uniforms, lunch boxes, back packs, and all of those items on the school’s “got-to-have” list– paper, notebooks, round-edged scissors, crayons, paste, and pencils.  You know the drill.

    The bells rang for me a long while back at Highland Elementary School – a fine school. Yes, at that time, the bells rang the first Monday of September– every September. It was an exciting time. Our next door neighbors, the elderly and kindly folks who kept an active dialogue with me, anticipated my first day of school each year as much as I did. Who was my teacher? Had my parents bought my school supplies? Within a few days, the neighbors would present me with a small bag of crayons and pencils for my first day. Yes, it was exciting times.

    The entire month of August, my mother had a school list of her own.  First, we would shop for fabric (I remember a lot of plaids), dress patterns, new shoes, and a winter coat – sometimes, a cold weather hat and gloves, too.  The fabric would be brought home and spread out on the kitchen table. The patterns were first fitted to me, then, placed upon the fabric and carefully cut into the pieces to sew together.  Did you notice the word carefully? You see there was an art to fitting the pattern to a minimum of fabric – no cloth to spare, because the cloth was sold by the yard, or one/half yard, or even one/fourth yard.  My mother was a thrifty-sort, probably like your momma, and she considered it almost a sin to waste fabric. There were times when some of the fabric was left over and she would sew a little handbag to match my outfit.

    Oh, I was well dressed, and my teachers noticed.  I remember one dress when momma became especially creative. Perhaps, she was short on fabric, I’m not certain, but she sewed a white-ruffled insert into the back of the full skirt. When I would swish around in the red dress with the white-ruffled insert, people would catch their breath and do a head-jerk. Was that little girl showing her petticoat? Oh, I loved it, and I was an excellent swisher. Tee hee …

    There was another “must-do” included on momma’s August list. Yep, it was that stinky Bobbie permanent wave. By August of each year, my ponytail hung down my back. You see momma had this dream. She wanted me to have “Shirley Temple curls.” However, I’ve never had a curl in my life, but she didn’t give up on a straight-haired kid like me. After the trip to the beauty shop (not salon) where my hair had been chopped close to my head, momma would take the perm box down from the shelf. There I sat like a victim at the kitchen table – as each curling rod was wound up around the little bit of hair that was left on my head. She said, if the hair was short, the perm would be better – resulting with those admired “doo-doo” type wads of curls.

    That’s when I learned to expect pain with beauty and glam.

    Finally, the day arrived – that first Monday in September when the entire student body lined up in front of the school building and recited the Pledge of Allegiance to the U. S. Flag. Our eyes walled around as we searched for our pals, and maybe, even boyfriends from the year prior. Oh, it was a spine-tingling time as we stood one after the other while Miss Majure gave her beginning-school-day-address.

    One year, Miss Majure had a real surprise for everyone as she gave her “pep-talk” on the first day. During the summer, a new church was built across the street, and within a few days, the steeple would be put into place. She promised that each class would take turns to watch the big crane as it pulled the steeple up to the church roof. Oh, my — what excitement!  Just as she promised, the day the crane arrived, each class stood silently to witness this great event. Miss Majure said we would always remember the day that the church steeple was placed on top of Highland Methodist Church. Today, I have shared that momentous occasion with you after, hmm, huh, well – a LOT of years. Yes, I have always remembered.

    What will your children or grandchildren remember about the first day of the school year of 2010/2011? Will they remember a celebration for learning, or drudgery, and a dread? The celebration is not just a task for the teachers and administrators. It must be taught by the entire community – beginning at home. 

    Today, I would like to thank Mr. Frank and Mrs. (Grandma) Carrie Dennis, plus Miss (Aunt) Eula Lamb, and, of course, my mother, for planting the celebration for learning within my heart during those August days of my childhood.

    Anne B. McKee is an author and storyteller. She lives in Meridian. Anne is listed on the Mississippi Artist Roster, sponsored by Mississippi Arts Commission, as a dramatic and literary artist and as a Teaching Artist. She is active with the arts and educational communities throughout Mississippi.  Visit her web site: www.annemckee.net.