From kindergarten through fourth grade I attended the same elementary school my dad attended some forty years earlier. The three story brick school contained only four classrooms, a computer room, a bathroom, a teacher's lounge, and a lunchroom which doubled as our gymnasium on the days weather was not permitting for P.E. class.
The building itself was square and tall, and the hierarchy of education followed the layout of the classrooms. All of us started out in the basement in the kindergarten room, which had its own bathroom, a water activity table, and a piano. A canvas movable wall separated the kindergarten room from the lunchroom, where pupils of all grades ate together, at the same time. The next year, we moved up to the first floor, which included the first, second, and third grade rooms that surrounded the teacher's lounge - and a bathroom (multiple stalls, woot!). The teacher's lounge, or "office" as we called it housed a large table, microwave and multiple cupboards. It also contained a lost and found box, which I utilized once or twice for a spare pair of pants. I used to have a fear of asking if I could go to the bathroom, so oftentimes I held it the entire day until I got home. And once or twice, I couldn't hold it. Once we hit fourth grade, we moved up in the world - to the third floor. The third floor was comprised of the fourth grade classroom (which doubled as a music room when the fourth grade was cut the year I was in third grade) and the computer lab. The lab held roughly ten Apple computers, which meant some of us had to share (most classes had between 12 and 16 kids to a class) - but no one seemed to mind as long as we got our share of Oregon Trail, Sticky Bear Spelling and Number Munchers.
Outside, the fourth graders had dibs on the monkey bars and jungle gym, while the smaller kids chose to take turns diving down the single silver slide or slithering down the fireman's pole. Everyone now and again took part in getting married or doing the spider on one of six of the tallest swings I've ever seen in my life to date. I preferred to hang out with the boys playing soccer or boot hockey though not necessarily by the rules. In summertime we'd bring our baseball mitts and play 500 or organize school wide baseball tournaments that took up entire afternoons. In the winter, the schools population would divide into two groups, each of which build a snow fort and complete mayhem would ensue. Snowball fights, snowball stealing, and always some sort of injury would eventually lead to inside recesses, but it was always fun while it lasted. I learned to respect the American Flag at an early age, as students reported to flag duty a couple times a year...putting the flag up in the morning and taking it down and folding it in the afternoon, careful it never touch the ground.
K-4. They were good years...
In kindergarten I met my best friend, Tami. I knocked down her blocks and simply asked her to be my friend. She said yes, and returned home to tell her mother that she had a new sister. I went to her wedding this past November, and although we're not as close as we used to be, there's something to be said for a near 20 year friendship. I'm proud of that.
First grade brought me the greatest gift I've ever received: the gift of literacy. Once I could read simple sentences, I wouldn't put books down. By the fourth grade I had read nearly all the books in our classroom libraries, and couldn't wait until the next book order. I still hold the record in one first grade reading race. Once we finished reading a book aloud to an adult, we'd have them sign off on a tiny paper shoe indicating the name of the book, author, and date we read it. We'd decorate the shoes, add our names and place them on the wall. My row of shoes covered the wall in front of the first grade classroom, cruised passed the second and third grader rooms, and ended in the basement near the kindergarten room. Our school lacked a library, but each week one of the teachers would bring a new load of books from the Sartell Elementary Library roughly ten miles away. I still nearly always have my head in a book or two.
If first grade brought me the greatest gift, second grade brought me a close second - writing. To improve our cursive, Mrs. Symalla had us cut pictures out of old magazines and then write stories about them. Though some of my peers hated this exercise, I looked forward to it every week. Being that I enjoyed writing (and I was good at it!) I got a few buddies together and as a gift, a few of us wrote and illustrated a book for our teacher. I wonder if she still has that somewhere.
Our parents demonstrated the power of grassroots organizing and determination when I was in third grade. Fourth grade had been eliminated due to declining enrollment and funding and the fact that Sartell was only a "short" bus ride away. Our parents pulled together to write letters, attend meetings, and gather signatures so that the twelve (yes, by this time I only had twelve in my class) of us could stay at our little school and stay together for one more year. I didn't really understand the importance of this at the time, but I remember writing a letter or two of my own stating why I wanted to stay at St. Stephen Elementary. Anyone can make a difference.
So the fourth grade came back, and stuck around for a few more years thereafter, too. Though at first it wasn't in the form I was expecting. To save on costs, the third and fourth grade shared a class and a teacher. So, as a fourth grader, I shared a class with third graders, including my younger brother. Many times our teacher taught us the same things, but other times we were taken down to the empty classroom where our gym teacher/permanent sub taught us spelling and reading and other fourth graderish things - we eventually got our own classroom and teacher.
Though there weren't many teachers at St. Stephen Elementary, all of them brought their own sense of fun and learning to our little school. These teachers I will never forget, though they probably will never know how much an impact they made on our lives.
The music teacher was only there a few hours out of the day - she rode a Harley and taught me to play the auto-harp and the kazoo. The kindergarten teacher took her students to her farm each spring (a trip I nearly missed due to the treacherous chicken pox). Her first name was Kitty - for real. The first grade teacher's husband used to come in a show us magic tricks, and I used to steal animal shaped erasers from her prize box when she wasn't looking. My second grade teacher sported a twelve inch bright red bee hive and leather. There was nothing special about my thrid grade teacher, other than she was the only teacher that made me cry - because I wasn't nice enough to the most annoying girl in my class. It wasn't that I was mean, she was just jealous because I (the tom boy that I was) preferred to hang out boys instead of playing house with her. There were two fourth grade teachers during my time at St. Stephen Elementary - mine was an in-house sub, turned gym teacher, turned full time teacher. She liked to laugh and to read and to go outside. She was my favorite teacher of the whole bunch of them.
Besides the teachers, a few other adults made our school family complete. The milkman, Roger, would come each day and we'd all greet him with smiles and secret hopes he brought enough chocolate milk to fill our cone shaped cups a second or even a third time. The bus driver, Royal, knew us all by name and grade, and some of us used to hug him before we got off the bus to go home. Evie, our lunch lady, sometimes brought her granddaughter to play with us, and always gave us all the chicken nuggets and pizza we could eat (no extra charge) - but always made sure we ate our green beans. And then, of course, I couldn't forget the reason the school shined with cleanliness - Mr. Seaton, the janitor.
Our little school didn't have an in-house principle, but we shared one with Sartell Elementary. He came out to visit once a year, and we really didn't need him that much. We never had any discipline problems - we were all friends, we all got along, as much as kids can, I suppose.
My school no longer exists (the structure stands, but the guts are gone and apartments have repaced them), but lately I've been thinking about how my experience there shaped who I am today. I learned to get along with everyone. I learned the importance of creativity and was allowed to let mine flow. I learned to succeed and had the support to do so. I developed my hunger for knowledge and learning. Most importantly, I found family in friendship and trust and inspiration in teachers. It wasn't the best school in the district. but it was the best school for me. I'm proud to have gone there, though at the time I did long to have the opportunities and luxeries the Sartell kids had (a swimming pool, a gym, girl scouts, sports).
I left St. Stephen Elementary to attend Sartell Intermediate School (which no longer exists, either) for fifth grade, which turned out to be the most hellish year of my entire existence.
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