Weird Scenes in Dark Hallways
Before I go on, yes, we had the nuclear explosion drill–first and second grade. Get under your desk, cover your head. You’d exchange goofy looks with your friends, the girls would giggle and smile at you. Of course, that first grade teacher didn’t take no mess, so if you laughed, you paid in spades. I believe there was a record that would play while we practiced hiding from the nuclear holocaust. And the principal was visible, going room to room, reminding us how important it was to take this seriously. There’s plenty of youtube videos to remind my generation of this inane drill. A little Pennsylvania school nestled in bucolic fields was high on the list of targets for the Reds.
Starting in third grade, you could volunteer for ‘Safety Patrol’. You got a badge and a white canvas strap apparatus around your waist and shoulders–basically a crossing guard without a stop sign. I had to cross one street on my walk to school, so that became my occasional corner. My street assignment could be crossed at other points, so foot traffic was minimal. Older kids made fun of you, so the job lost its allure after fourth grade—it became very UNCOOL to be a safety patrol kid in 5th grade. I should mention that when it rained, you got to wear a bright yellow raincoat that doubled as an instrument of torture. It was made of rubber and by the time you hung it up, you couldn’t tell if you were soaked from rain or sweat.
You could also open your first savings account in first grade. You had a little yellow bankbook and a place for your change. Teacher collected it, and two days later you got the book back with your new fifty cent deposit recorded. I was so proud. At the end of the year, my father told me that I really wasn’t allowed to have a bank account, as I was too young. And anyway, since all those nickels and dimes were really his, I needed to sign this form so he could take the money.
Another big honor was visiting the ‘Eraser Room’. What? You didn’t have one?? 3 doors down the hall in a windowless room sat a huge floor-model shop vacuum. This was the Eraser Room…….alright, so it was a glorified janitor’s closet. At day’s end, two lucky students were chosen from a sea of emphatically raised hands to solemnly bear the teacher’s chalk erasers to the Eraser Room. All you needed was a long robe and a solemn Gregorian chant. Once in the room, you’d close the door (that sucker was as loud as a jet), turn on the monster, and suck white dust off the erasers so they were pristine for the next day–truly a vital service. And of course, we always stretched the task out twice as long. Statistics aren’t available about how many of us tried cocaine in later life.
And the Milk Room. For a small school, we had special stuff! You brought in your nickel, you got a half pint of regular milk, nonfat milk, or **Chocolate** Milk. Teacher collected the loot and made a list for the two lucky honorees, who pulled a red wagon to the other side of the school (where only big kids went!!) and the Milk Room. The Milk Room was actually the boiler room, but the boiler was against the far wall, two steps down. The milk machine towered high above us on the other wall, shiny and blue–a benevolent spirit. Feed those nickels, stack that milk. Bear in mind we were unattended, so there were all sorts of nefarious schemes we chose not to implement. The responsibility of such a weighty task held us in line.