Call Me Kat

Going to School

It was the first Wednesday after Labor Day, and the small red house was filled with the sounds of excited children and adults busily preparing hot breakfasts or getting the children outfitted in their new clothes.

Outside, the sky was bright blue with a few scattered clouds drifting across on gentle breezes. Large flocks of birds flew in formations in rhythmic unity, quickly moving this way then that way.

The air was crisp and fresh with scents common at the end of summer—freshly mowed grass, laundry drying on the lines, and the earthy aroma of the season’s last blooms.

Upstairs, two of the children were busily getting dressed in their new outfits, while the third, still too young to join them on this day, was with Mother who was busily getting her dressed.

“Lucy, get moving and get dressed. You don’t want to be late!” Mother called out.

Mother was in her bedroom getting Lucy’s little sister, Nancy, dressed. The family had just celebrated Nancy’s fifth birthday on Friday. Nancy would be staying with Grandmother while Mother and Lucy walked to school.

Lucy, the second child, examined her new dresses, trying to decide which of these store-bought garments would be the one to wear today. Her dress was very important to her, down to the last detail. The decision was very important to her. Until now, she had always worn clothing made by Mother or Grandmother, or hand-me-downs from Mother’s friends. These store-bought dresses represented something special, something new.

After much consideration, Lucy decided to wear the lemon-yellow dress, which was so becoming against her tanned skin and dark hair. It was so pretty, she thought, as she examined the tiny pleats that went down the front of the bodice, with tiny pink flowers embroidered here and there along the pleated strip that ran from neckline to dropped waist. The slightly gathered skirt stopped just at her knees.

With this, she wore white ankle socks, folded over with little ruffled hems. She completed the ensemble with her new favorite shoes—black and white saddle shoes with crisp white laces.

Satisfied with her decision, Lucy ran downstairs to her grandmother’s apartment, where her hair would be neatly braided and tied with the satin ribbons she selected from her grandmother’s wooden bucket. The brown wooden bucket, with its wooden lid and U-shaped handle, held mounds of silky ribbons in dozens of colors, widths, and lengths, carefully stored for occasions such as this.

“Lucy, please choose a ribbon quickly. This isn’t the time to dally.”

While they chatted, Grandmother began reminiscing about the house, telling her stories of when it was first purchased. “Grandfather bought this home during the Depression,” she said, deftly working the ribbons into Lucy’s braids. “He worked as a mule skinner in those days. He was lucky to have kept his job when so many people were out of work. We raised six children here—your mother included.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as she listened. She had never thought much about the house’s history, but now she felt a deeper connection to it.

“Did they live upstairs like we do?” Lucy asked.

“Not at first,” her grandmother replied. “The house had always been two apartments. At first there had been a woman living upstairs, but she moved away after we bought the house. Then we used the whole house as one home. The children’s bedrooms were upstairs.”

Grandmother told her about when she was a little girl, there was no hot water faucet in her mother’s house. Hot water had to be heated on the kitchen stove, which burned coal for heat and cooking.

For Lucy, living without running hot water upstairs was simply the way things were. Mother also heated water on the stove for bathing or washing dishes, a routine that felt normal to her. It was a part of her family’s story—her story. She glanced around at the walls and furniture that had stood for generations, now feeling like pieces of a living memory.

“There now, finished,” Grandmother said while she tied the last bow. “Ready to go?”

Lucy nodded, her excitement for the day mingling with a newfound sense of pride in her family’s history. “I’ll never forget this,” she said softly.

Grandmother was now hurrying Lucy, who still hadn’t eaten her breakfast.

While Lucy ate breakfast, they spoke about how exciting this day would be for her. This was one of many special days that would come, and Lucy couldn’t wait to get on with it. After all, there would only be one very First Day of School.

Lucy’s brother, Danny, being two years older, had already had his special day and was now in third grade. He considered this just another ordinary day, and as soon as breakfast was finished, he ran off to school without hesitation.

Lucy’s mother walked with her to school, talking about what the day might hold. After getting her settled in the play yard, she asked her friend’s son, Johnny, to keep a watchful eye on her before heading back home to care for the youngest child waiting there. Johnny was one of the big kids, in the eighth grade and so Lucy thought he was very tall and nice.

Lucy was a quiet, somewhat shy child, but she knew Johnny, who stood beside her explaining what would happen when the school bell rang. She had never been among so many children before and had never been left without a family member close by. It was all so new and exciting!

The boys and girls were either running around or standing and talking; some girls were jumping rope. Lucy watched them all, wishing to see a familiar face, and wondering which would become her friends.

A bell was being rung by a Sister standing at the top of steps leading to the entrance of the school. The children lined up according to height in front of the three steps leading to the school doors.

Lucy took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and stepped forward following the children ahead of her. Her adventure was just beginning.