School Days Start Earlier and Earlier

I was thinking about school because all the newspaper ads have “back to school” specials. And, it occurred to me that I do not remember my first day of school. One would think that that day would be one of those things never to forget.

I do remember being in the first grade, however, and one of my friends was Obdulia. Her cousin Rosa came later on in the year, and she had a larger box of crayons, and none of the crayons were broken. And she did not let me borrow one of her crayons, when the color I wanted was missing from my box.

St. Anthony’s Parochial School was mainly staffed by the nuns of the parish, and the grades taught were First through Sixth. We did not have Kindergarden, much less pre-K. My teacher in the first and second grade was Sister Manuela, and I don’t recall that we necessarily spoke English or Spanish. Language did not become an issue until I was in the fourth grade with Sister Rosario, who announced that we would speak only in English in the classroom.

But speaking of language, I wondered, but never questioned, why in English we called the nuns “Sisters” but in Spanish they were “Las Madres” or the affectionate diminutive “Las Madrecitas.”

By today’s standards, there were some things at the school that would not be allowed today. In the first year there were no drinking fountains, only a spigot in the central yard. There was a tin cup available for anyone to use. Some of us had a collapsible, telescopic drinking cup we were suppose to use, but that always got lost. It was no big deal to drink from the same cup everyone else did.

Those school days were carefree days. My great-grandmother, La Abuelita, would walk to our school with lunch for sis and me. We would sit in a sunny spot on some benches and ate our lunch. The other children I think brought sack lunches. We had not heard of Burritos, to us they were taquitos con tortillas de harina.

Not all the nuns were teachers. Sister Sofia, a short pudgy lady, was the one who took care of the cooking and domestic chores of the residence. She also taught some of us girls to crochet. For mother’s day, she crocheted a black purse for my mother. My sister and I might have completed a few stitches on the project, but it was actually Sister Sofia who did the most of the work, because it was beautifully done. Mom kept that purse for quite a few years, using it for her dressier occasions.



As we look at the picture above, my cousin is on the right, and I am on the left. We are standing next to one of the buildings at school. I find the picture interesting because we are holding hands, as if to reassure each other that it is OK to have our picture taken. I am older than my cousin, and I grew to be taller than she, but in this picture we are the same height.



The color photo is of my beautiful grandson who goes to daycare every weekday. My daughter refers to it as “school” instead of daycare. Today, my handsome nieto is seven months old, has three teeth, and is able to sit up by himself. Oh yes, another thing he picked up at his school is a cold. Happy 7-month birthday, baby, learn all you can at school, and stay well! Abuela loves you.