I Can Almost Smell it
Early this moring I got a Sn@pch@t from my 13 year old granddaughter. A short video panarama of the students and the classroom in one of her 8th grade subjects. In that moment I regressed sixty years to the little rural six room school I attended. The chalk odor greeted my nose at the front entrance. The hallway seemed dark and wide from my childish perspective. The steam radiators clanked and hissed throughout the winter days. Sometimes wet gloves were set on them to dry, which reminded me of wet dog as the wool singed from the heat. What we called 'the cloackroom' was a large open ended closet that contained hooks for coats and a built in bench. As there was no cafeteria, the large closet also held our lunch boxes. So by the late afternoon the over-ripe banana peels and the left over peanut butter sandwiches were in a winning battle to offend the nostrils. I don't even need to mention the stinky boots and wet socks. But hey! The windows were push up to open