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School started this week.
With two out of high
school, I have a remaining junior so my school shopping list is short. No more packs of colored pencils.
I find myself reflecting on my back to school days. Yes, I know it’s a cliche, but things were simpler then. And, for me, the ritual of heading back to those small wooden desks with a hole in the upper right comer to hold a bottle of blue Sheaffer ink was sweet.
By third or fourth grade we were expected to master the use of a fountain pen. I don’t even think ballpoints were invented. If they were, we didn’t use them. For us, it was pencils, always to be kept razor sharp, and fountain pens.
Ink cartridges arrived on the scene later. We had to fine tune the art of filling a fountain pen by gently mastering that tiny, slim silver lever on the side. A little and not enough ink always went in. Tbo much and your fingers bore the permanent mark of your mistake.
And then, of course, there was Stephen. I’ll never forget the image of him occasionally drinking the ink because it gave him a blue smile. Stephen had issues.
Rulers were your basic colored plastic variety with the tiny white numbers that eventually wore off and crayons were gradually getting packaged in bigger and bigger sets but, for most of us, stopped at 24.
Scissorswere small, rounded and metal and didn’t cut very well.
Marbled composition books were very much in vogue as they are today but mine were all black. There were no colors to choose from.
All of my folders looked the same. I knew them only as PG folders and they were cream colored, illustrated with sports figures in a cinnamon-colored ink. Lisa Frank (the designer of those cool psychedelic folders) wasn’t even bom then and Tweety Bird and company were just making thenappearances on cereal boxes.
Now it’s fancy racing cars, basketball and football stars. Horses prancing, Pokeman dancing. Forget about it.
Zippered pouches for holding all the precious pencils and pens were around but many of my classmates used old cigar boxes. These actually
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