Figuratively and Literally
Our beloved playground was going to open on Memorial Day. Construction on the road began in the fall. Our huge fifth grade windows opened right onto the vista of the construction.
Things were bad enough for that poor bastard who taught us. Paper airplanes in the hanging lights. Boys making rude noises, and poppping a cupped hand against your thigh.
First came the playground road–the borough dug a twisty road from halfway up the big hill down to meet the top of my street. As we were soon to find out that winter, they dug small trenches on the hill side of the road. This meant that your sledding was rudely curtailed when you reached the bottom, instead of just riding out over a long flat area. (More on madcap sledding misadventures later!)
Construction equipment returned in March. First they graded the ground, then started on the equipment and the pavilion. At this point, our drapes were closed every day unless it rained or snowed. It was absolutely impossible for us to keep our eyes off the windows, particularly when you heard hammering and sawing.
The pavilion was around 50 feet long and 30 feet wide and easily taller than our house, with a huge peaked roof. Normally, we spent recess on the other side of the school, but now we couldn’t help but drift to the playground side.
Of course, this led to the principal coming into all rooms to say that playing on that side was forbidden under penalty of a slow and lingering death.
Aw, sing it, Todd!!