School Days Revisited
Margery McCurdy Plummer
I see them everywhere, at the store shopping, at church, dining out, at the Civic Center, on the greenway, even occasionally in a neighboring town. What I’m talking about are those pupils I taught years ago and even years and years ago. Most of them now have families of their own, often grandchildren and maybe some, I would think, have great grandchildren.

Recently, my husband and I were eating at a local restaurant when a couple came in. We immediately recognized them. They were having a meal before going to see their grandson play football. We see these two quite often, and they seem to look pretty much the same as they did years ago, but even if they had changed much in appearance, we would have known them. People can change on the outside, but personalities don’t change that much.

Pupils that I taught many years ago are amazed that I still remember them. It’s really not too difficult. If at first I need a little clue, if it’s a girl I’m talking to, I can ask, “What was your maiden name?” Immediately, something clicks, like a camera shutter, and I can see a picture of a classroom and where different people were seated The answer to “Who were some others in the classroom with you?” can show me a picture of a classroom and the person I’m talking with along with his classmates. It’s not so hard to remember these people who were like family when one considers that I saw them five days a week, usually for a school year. They’re just there.

When the classroom comes into focus, I can remember, outside, front seat, middle aisle, near the front, or outside aisle, near the back. It’s fairly simple, but I do occasionally miss.

Some teachers who are a bit more adventurous than I, have traveled to many places and taught under unusual circumstances. I taught my entire career in White House, not caring to go into the unknown. White House has always been home, and these were my kids.

My relationship with these kids, however, has changed over the years. In school I was the older teacher, and they were the younger pupils. As time has passed, and they have families and have gone through many of the life experiences as we have, such as births, deaths, family losses, failures and successes, the gap has closed somewhat, and we seem to be almost contemporaries. We talk about the future and reminisce about old times.

One event that I think of when reminiscing occurred that memorable year that I taught in a portable until we could get into the new building. That portable was not new and showed it. There were circles on the ceiling where the roof had leaked, and the carpet gave off a musty, unpleasant odor. Most notably, the air conditioner was temporarily out of order during one very hot beggining of school, and a gaping hole opened into the classroom. I brought my own large floor fan from home, and we managed. In fact, we felt a little big cozy out there to ourselves.

I called the roll in alphabetical order, and one day as I started calling names in order, I noticed that some of the students were stepping through the air conditioner hole as their name was called and taking assigned, alphabetically arranged seats. I was somewhat surprised, but not much, and I let them come in (or up) and be seated. It was orderly and easier than going around the building and coming in the door. I don’t think it would be wise to call names, but I somehow feel that the organizer of this plot had a last name that begins with the letter “C”. It had to be funny. It was, and it was weird! I’ve always felt that if one can’t laugh at one’s self or with others, he may as well throw in the towel. That’s slang for quit.

I’m always pleased to see those old class members and to hear, “Hi Mrs. Plummer, remember me?” I usually reply, “Sure I do” or “What was your maiden name?” or “Who was in that class with you?” One way or another, I’ll find out.