An Every Day Life

I was thinking about the way we lived our lives as children, and the way life seemed to be lived back in the 50's and 60's, and the term "everyday life" came to mind. So I thought I would blog a few times around that concept. So, enjoy this first one, The Recess Bell.




In a time when my world was as small as I was, and my thoughts as limited as the streets and yards of my hometown, and Saturday night television, I pretty much thought I was the center of that small world. It seemed as though nothing could function without my own personal involvement.


"Pam, get up! You can't be late for school!" This from my mother pierced my morning slumber for nine months out of twelve. Maybe it was a little payback for nine months of pregnancy, I don't know. I should note that my mother never, ever called me 'Pammy'. And she was always Mother. She did the best she could with six kids and five dollars, but she just wasn't the mommy type of mother. She was more the Queen Bee type. But that's another blog.


Obviously school couldn't start without me. Otherwise, why the rush? And the ordeal continued at school. If I didn't turn in my homework (how did That work with the child labor laws?) no one got go out for recess! If I didn't line up for lunch, no one got to go to the cafeteria to eat. Fortunately, I was a trooper, and Duncan Elementary never lost a student to starvation. And speaking of school lunches, what about truth in advertising? Except for the hot dogs and chocolate cake we had every Friday, I'm not sure what food category that stuff would fall into.

Speaking of recess, I sincerely believe that the recess bell is the reason kids back then had nightmares. That shrill, shrieking, clanging, point 10 on the Richter scale bell struck terror in everyone, including the teachers. I saw with my own eyes kids jump out of a swing in mid air, from 1000 feet up, when the Recess Bell rang. No one knew what would actually happen if you didn't get back to the classroom and in your Seat by the time it stopped ringing, but, knowing my role in the universe, I was often one of those kids jumping out the swing!

By the sixth grade my world had expanded a little bit, and the burdens of the world were less frightening, except for that Recess Bell. I watched, briefly, one morning from the steps of the school as a frantic mother tried to pull her first grader from the car. The child was kicking and screaming and had a death grip on the car door. I could only smile knowingly, and with sympathy of course. I knew how hard it was to be the center of your known world.