Nobody's in my class: memories of the first day of school

A version of this column first appeared in The Dallas Morning News and on DallasNews.com. Please check out the site.
------------


Children may be the leaders of tomorrow, but as another school year begins, they’re the grumblers of today. It’s back-to-school time, when kids bemoan the end of summer and parents look forward to seeing their little Einsteins learn new things, strive for new goals and leave the house for eight consecutive hours.

For students in the elementary grades, the learning begins before they even get to a classroom. They arrive at school, scan through the names on the class lists, and then learn that the world has ended.

I don't have any friends in my class!

I remember feeling that pain, and that’s saying something because I don’t remember much about elementary school. My recall of the first through fifth grades is a spotty mental slide show of classrooms, teachers and playground equipment that was so fun it was later considered unsafe. I also have scattered memories of fundraisers that made me a door-to-door salesman for Cajun summer sausage, jalapeno cheese spreads and pecan logs.

Most of it is pretty hazy. But my memories of the first day of school are still pretty sharp, probably because it was such an emotional event. For pre-teens, finding out who is in your class is like playing the lottery.

At Horizon Elementary, home of the fightin’ Panthers and famously injurious merry-go-round, the class rosters were posted on a brick wall near the main entrance. Parents and kids gathered around the dot-matrix printouts, squeezing together near one of the water-fountain troughs. Remember those old-style fountains? They allowed up to four kids, thirsty from running around on the playground, to be simultaneously repulsed by lukewarm water.
Now, everyone stand up and then jump off at the same time!

Dressed in a polo shirt and corduroy shorts (ah, the Eighties!), I walked up to the lists. My heart was pounding. My stomach was twisting. And then my eyes were scanning, just like the kids around me, to discover my fate for the next nine months (aka forever).

No matter what the lists revealed, I tried to absorb the news well. But there were always kids in tears. It was like a group audition for one of those melodramatic ABC Afterschool Specials that taught children important lessons about drugs, teenage pregnancy and bad acting.

The fightin’ Panthers ... yes, we were ridiculously overdramatic. But the students involved didn’t feel that way. When you’re 7, 8 or 9 years old, it’s difficult to have perspective on anything. Everything is over the top and bubbling with emotion, good or bad. Everything rates just short of euphoria or armageddon.
 
When I was placed in the same third-grade class with my two best friends, it was that amazing. I had been attending church and Sunday School classes for years, but having my best friends in my class was the confirmation that God existed. Not only did God exist, He had enough time in his busy schedule to sort classes at Horizon Elementary.
 
But then came the next year. My friends and I were split up, probably not coincidentally, and the world was totally unfair.

“Now you can make more friends,” my parents said.

As a fourth grader, I didn’t want to hear that. But as a parent, that’s the best advice I can offer my kids when the class lists disappoint them. It’s what I would tell any back-to-schooler who feels cheated by his or her new class.

Your best friends weren’t always you best friends, you know. You didn’t bond in side-by-side bassinets at the hospital. You were strangers when you met, and then you got to know each other and became friends. You cemented your friendship through time spent together in class, at recess, and in some cases, at the nurse’s office after daredevil jumps off the spinning merry-go-round.

I’m sure no kid wants to hear that “look on the bright side” lecture. But the students surrounded by unfamiliar faces, especially those kids starting at a new school, can think of it as an advantage. The ability to meet new people, make friends and get along is a great skill to have in this world. This will be a way to improve those skills.

Will that make sense now for the leaders of tomorrow?
 
Maybe not. But by the time their elementary-school memories are turning fuzzy, it should be more clear.
***
You can use the buttons above to share the column. Click "Follow
@wixonhumor" to get a Twitter update for new columns. To get columns by e-mail, type your address in the box under "Receive columns by e-mail" near the top right of this page. Thanks!

ARCHIVED COLUMNS

Humor Me: A questionnaire for your crazy roommate
Humor Me: If you could, would you be a kid again?
Humor Me: Calculating your own personal heat index
Humor Me: For queen, Olympic smile would be royal pain
Humor Me: The official 2012 Summer Olympics viewers guide
Humor Me: Truth in customer service
Humor Me: 12 CDs for the price of 1 (with nothing more to buy!)
Humor Me: Well-versed on the Fourth of July
Humor Me: Yes, my 4-year-old fainted at the hospital when he thought his mom had been turned into a robot
Humor Me: Happy Father's Day, buffoons of America
Humor Me: Zooey Deschanel, the iPhone and ugh ...
Humor Me: Lights, camera, spell it or else
Humor Me: Man's best friend at any age
Humor Me: When American Idol kicked me out
Humor Me: 90s music in commercials
Humor Me: Soft-serve ice cream and Wal-Mart greeters
Humor Me: One light goes out ...
Humor Me: 20-year high school reunion
Humor Me: Neiman Marcus' Christmas Book
Humor Me: Warning, this is a commercial
Humor Me: Public speaking nightmares
Humor Me: Sleeping on the job
Humor Me: Vacationing with the kids
Humor Me: Signing day at Barnes & Noble
Humor Me: Yoga dropout
Humor Me: Your kid won't be famous
Humor Me: Lover, find your match
Humor Me: Diary of a 1-year-old
Humor Me: It's time for Girl Scout cookies
Humor Me: New Year's Resolutions
Humor Me: Attention frantic shoppers
Humor Me: Here come the carolers
Humor Me: Christmas decorating tips
Humor Me: Holiday brag letter
Humor Me: Dude, I'm getting old
Humor Me: A life of trick-or-treating
Humor Me: Where's the actual cat?
Humor Me: The best gift for a kid is not this
Humor Me: Welcome to autumn in Texas
Humor Me: This might not be a drill
Humor Me: My old friend needs some help
Humor Me: You could be huge in the luge
Humor Me: An appointment men hate
Humor Me: Red, white and Rubik
Humor Me: Your Father's Day future
Humor Me: Swimming with the kids
Humor Me: Spelling out success
Humor Me: So long, old friend
Humor Me: Planning a cheapskate vacation
Humor Me: Florence, Minn., population 61
Humor Me: You'll love summer camp ... really!
Humor Me: Surviving cubicle life
Humor Me: The lost Kit Kat opportunity

Humor Me: Taxing times for Americans
Humor Me: Retirement won't be a tearjerker
Humor Me: A degree in schmooze
Humor Me: Dawdling to a better life
Humor Me: Spring cleaning for the brain
Humor Me: Bring on the energy drinks
Humor Me: Your baby needs an airbrush
Humor Me: Memories don't bite the dust
Humor Me: Celebs rule elections, too
Humor Me: Baby, it's a world of wonders


Popular posts from this blog

Want my feedback? I've had it with surveys

Humor Me: Truth in customer service

Humor Me: Calculating your very own heat index