School Days: Elementary School

I walked to school from first to sixth grade, when I went to Rosa Taylor Elementary School (1965-1971). In the morning I might walk with a sibling. On the way home I’d walk with friends. A distance of about half a mile. No sidewalks, but we’d walk in the grass next to the road. From time to time I’d walk home with friends, to Glenn Howell’s house, or to my Cub Scout meeting. Only once did I ride my bike to school. That afternoon like always I walked home. Only then did I realize my bike was missing. I scampered back to school to find it where I’d left it, all by its lonesome.

I’ve surely recounted the afternoon in first grade when I was hit by a car, in 1966. I’d been walking with Doye Green. We were swinging our book satchels, until I decided I didn’t want to any more. I decided to cross the street, but didn’t look until it was too late. I remember seeing the maroon station wagon bearing down on me, then nothing else. I woke up on my couch at home. The lady who’d hit me had a daughter in my sister’s girl scout troop, so she knew who I was. My mom took me to have my head x-rayed, but the results showed nothing (old joke).

In first grade we’d all walk in a line to and from lunch, or out to recess. One day we were walking down the hallway. For some reason a desk had been placed in the hallway. Everyone walked around the desk – except me. I stepped through the desk – and was promptly reprimanded. At recess my favorite playground activities were the merry go round, the swings, and the tall sliding board. I stayed away from the monkey bars – they were too hard. Then one day I was following friends through the playground, kind of like an obstacle course. We climbed the monkey bars, and I was able to negotiate across them. Amazed myself.

Another time we were playing freeze tag. I remember being tagged and was standing there, waiting for someone to tag and “unfreeze” me. Several feet away my friend Kim was also frozen. I found a small stone and tossed it to him. He stretched and caught the rock – we considered ourselves unfrozen, and both ran away.

As a kid when we’d visit my grandmother, we would drive up Piedmont from 85 and turn right on Peachtree. I remember the gas station on the southwest corner, and various car dealerships on other corners.

In 6th grade (1970) we moved from Wimbush to a new house on Kathryn Drive. The first day I expected my mother to pick me up at school, but after 30 or so minutes I was about the only one there. No cell phones. I trudged the long way home. Seemed like a million miles, but actually less than four. Still a long way for an eleven year old. Was getting dark by the time I arrived. I wasn’t happy, but quickly learned my parents weren’t either. After that I’d ride the bus from Rosa Taylor. It would stop at the next elementary school, McKibben Lane, before depositing me at my house.

When new Springdale School opened in 1971, I transferred there. The Springdale 6th grade class had been meeting at Rosa Taylor. They seemed to be having a good time. It was my last few months with the kids I’d gone to school with for over five years. After transferring I quickly loved my new school. We lived too close to ride the bus, so we walked or were driven by parents. At Springdale Mrs. Grenga was our teacher in both 6th and 7th grade. At least once a week she would march us down to the music room and teach us show tunes: “If I Were a Rich Man” and others from Broadway shows. For Christmas we sang several songs that was pressed into an album. Not sure where it is, but I think I still have it.

Though I played with the kids in the neighborhood and at school, we rarely played baseball, football, or basketball. More playground stuff. But when I transferred to Springdale we played basketball and football at recess. Not really basketball games, we’d just shoot around. For awhile the big deal was to try half court shots – quite a heave for a 7th grader. Bill Yancy was the king of the half court shot. I made my share.

I can’t recall if we played tackle or touch football. Seemed like it was tackle. As a budding kicker, at the time I was infatuated with the “on-side” / squib kick. Not the bouncing kick to the sideline that’s used today. Instead laying the ball flat. I’d lay the ball on the ground and kick the underside of the ball, sending a hard to catch floater down the field.

One day recess was ending, so we decided to run one more play. I kicked off and Johnny Gidson grabbed the ball. Johnny was the fastest boy in our class. He darted and dashed up the field. Soon only one defender stood between Johnny and the goal line – me. He was about to run past me at full speed. I took one step to my right, into his path – and we collided. Nose to nose. I went straight down, like a sack of potatoes. My last vision was Johnny spinning in a circle down to the ground. We both had bloody noses. My nose went from being straight to having what I thought was a bit more character, with a bit of a bump that I still have today. Johnny’s dad was pastor of Wesleyan Drive Baptist Church. Johnny went on to become a professor at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, though he passed away a few years ago.