As children from a certain age, we didn’t know how well off we were then. Long before the advent of Apple computers and 27-inch screens, we had our own portable devices. They were called pencils.
Incredibly, I still have one from my childhood school. It’s light blue with the words “San Francisco School System” proudly printed on the side in white letters. One might wonder how (or why) I have a pencil that is nearly 75 years old. However, anyone who knows me well will understand.
Spring Valley Elementary School, located on Jackson Street in San Francisco, handed out these pencils (free, I might add) to any student. I probably asked for one every day, as I love the smell of new pencils that have just been freshly sharpened. No one seemed concerned that I went through them at the speed of light.
Many years after I left Spring Valley, I drove down Jackson Street and passed the school. I pulled over, parked, and went inside for the first time in decades. I first noticed that the school smelled exactly the same as it did when I was there. You had to spend years at the school to know what I meant.
I wandered into what was my kindergarten class. It looked the same, with small tables and tiny chairs. In a few moments, a young teacher walked in and, thinking I was someone’s grandparent, cheerfully asked if she could help me in any way. I replied that I’d been a student in that classroom as a child. She was thrilled. It was like I’d opened a door for her to peer into and to imagine what it must have been like “then.”
She was so excited, she asked me if I’d like to meet her at the principal’s office. I declined the opportunity to meet the principal. However, I did walk upstairs, and as I rounded the corner, I saw the exact same white bench outside her office that was there when I was a student. I remembered it all too well.
Are we there yet? 