Back To School

When I was in seventh grade I moved to a new school. It was a little parochial school tucked in a tiny shady corner of the Bronx, called St. Mary's. I had just spent a year in a public school where a girl had gotten raped, a classmate had died of a mysterious asthma attack, and a girl in my grade, had run into the school, hysterical and half-naked because a few boys had attacked her in the park. I loved that school but we'll get into that at another juncture.

I had spent four years in two different public schools and in those years are contained my fondest memories of school life. So, I was uneasy when I was told I would be transferring to this Catholic school. Although, not too much because I had already been there for Pre-K and first and second grade.

First day of school and I was glad to see many people from my first and second grades and there were a few people I knew in my years in public school. That year I became best friends with Samantha, a quiet, often the domineered sheep of our flock; Susan, who I knew and was best friends with in 5th grade; Roseanne or Rosie, who I had met and slightly knew in second grade, she was the tomboy/sassy Puerto Rican who all the boys inevitably fell hard for; and Marisol, who I knew since kindergarten. She and I were in the same classes and schools all the way until 8th grade. She was the leader who was smart and could cut you to the quick with vicious verbiage, but she was funny and charming in her own way.

We were the fivesome who often sat at a different table from the other girls and while they played double dutch at recess, we played tag with the boys, or sporks (which was a fun game that requires those sporks they give you at lunch, there was something evil about them that I loved).

Our cafeteria table also housed the unwanted boys, the geek boys, who were not athletic, who wore glasses, who liked to play the various card games that were in vogue, or just not up to par with the other boys, meaning we sat with the Jew, the flaming queen, the Greek boy with the weird accent, the idiot savant, who would sit at the back of the class humming tunes, leaving jerry curl stains on his chair, and playing with paper. (Once asked by the teacher if he was listening he answered in the affirmative and the teacher ask him to repeat what she had said and repeated everything she said, word for word from the last ten minutes.)(I should know, I was at that time, taking copious notes.) It was eerie. Our lunch table was the only one in the whole school that was a mix of the sexes and the races. That school being predominantly Black, our table stood out.

Oh, it's nice to reminisce but I must bid you adieu for today and tune in next week for more of Michelle Brown's school days.

Me.

p.s. Happy Valentine's Day all.