Remember what a big deal it was on the first day of school when you were a kid? Still is, I guess, for those of you who have young children or grandchildren.
We were very big on the start of school in my house when I was growing up. For years and years after my siblings and I were grown, Mum bemoaned the fact that we were done with back-to-school shopping. Especially the trip to buy new scribblers, binders, pencils, coloured pencils (my favourite), maybe a new lunch bucket with a matching thermos, and always, always a campfire notebook.
Campfire notebooks were Mum’s favourite.
You can read a bit about that Canadian school staple here if you’re interested.
This is what mine looked like.
Anyway. I’m not sure why Mum was so enamoured of the campfire notebook. But they were de rigueur for all elementary kids when I was young. They were longer than they were wide, and we used them to write out our homework each day, and I seem to remember they were also for writing down our spelling lists. Each night we’d go home, memorize our spelling list, and Mum would “hear” our homework, or “lessons.” I don’t remember ever using the term homework. Always lessons. “Have you done your lessons, Susie?” Mum would say. “Let me hear your lessons.”
I loved having Mum hear my lessons, especially if I were writing a story. Which I would read to her again and again. After sharing, I’d retreat to the bedroom to add a few more sentences, and then read it to her again, from the beginning. I distinctly remember one assignment about explorer Samuel de Champlain. Mum said by the time I was finished, having read it aloud multiple times to her, she knew it word for word. I also have a vague memory that I’ve told YOU that story before on the blog. Ha.
Of course first days of school were about more than the preparatory shopping. There was always the anxiety. The night before the start of school sleeplessness, and the nerves on the morning of.
Like last weekend, when I had my first first day of school in a long time. I started a beginner painting course which I’ve been looking forward to for months. “I’m actually nervous,” I said on Saturday afternoon as I pulled my boots on, and tucked my newly thrifted “painting shirt” into my purse. “Go on. You’ll have fun,” Hubby laughed as he pushed me out the door.
I laughed too, and as I drove I remembered a different sort of first day of school. My first ever day as a teacher in 1983. I was living back at home on the farm, and at twenty-seven was restarting my adult life all over again. But you’ve heard that story too, I know.
Anyway, back in the early winter of 1983, newly licensed as a secondary teacher in New Brunswick, I’d put my name on the supply list in Fredericton, made the rounds of schools introducing myself, and then awaited a phone call from someone, anyone, who could offer me work.
It was 7:00 am. when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” I yelled and rushed downstairs. It was Sonny Phillips, my old science and math teacher from grade nine, wondering if I could “go in for him” as he wasn’t well. I sure could.
I’m smiling as I write this, remembering the kerfluffle that followed. Mum in the kitchen in her housecoat, lighting the fire in the wood stove, then making me breakfast, and Lloyd pulling on his clothes and rushing outside to start the car and back it out of the garage. There was a lot of excited yelling. Did I need a lunch? I should hurry up. I didn’t want to be late on my first day of teaching. Getting me out the door appeared to be a team effort.
Mum told me afterward that, as they ate their lunch later, Lloyd wondered if he should pop up to the school to make sure I hadn’t forgotten my pencils or anything. She said, “Don’t you dare. Susie would kill you.” And they laughed. Partly at his joke. And partly at the idea of me being a grown up. And a teacher.
So, my first day of school last weekend was a joy. My first day of being a student again… instead of the teacher. I needn’t have worried.
Kate, our teacher, is warm and kind and smiling… just the way I like my teachers to be. Plus she has great hair, so that didn’t hurt. Ha. Her studio is a mere fifteen minute drive from our house, further out into the country and, like us, situated on the Rideau River. The big room is cosy and lit by huge windows, and twelve of us students sat around big, square wooden tables, small easels and all our supplies in front of us, all provided by Kate.
Two lovely dogs greeted each of us as we entered. The unofficial welcoming party. Then they circulated for pats. There is a cat too, apparently, but he did not make an appearance. You know cats. There was coffee and tea and snacks. Kate said to just get up and help ourselves whenever we wanted. I mean, could this be a better class for me? Kind teacher, tea and snacks, dogs to pat. If the cat eventually visits, my joy will be complete. Oh, and I learned stuff too.
You know, I think that it’s very easy to forget how scary it can be to start something new. Even as an adult.
As a child I always found first days stressful. I reacted better to teachers who smiled and who were kind. I never did my best work for teachers I feared. Of course, respect is important. And while I might respect them, if I also feared them, I constantly worried about making a mistake. And fear of making a mistake is not good for learning. Besides, a teacher can earn a student’s respect and still be kind.
As a teacher I modelled my behaviour on the behaviour of my favourite teachers. Miss Barrett, my grade three teacher whom we all loved, and who made such creative lessons for us that I never forgot them. Mr. Piers, my grade eight teacher who told the best stories, and who made us laugh even when he was chastising us. Mrs. Limerick my high school Chemistry teacher who wasn’t funny, but who was smart and kind, and whose white lab coat always looked good with her outfits. I remember each first day in their classes. I remember feeling safe and excited to learn.
Surprising to me, another of my favourite teachers was Mrs. Moorehouse, my grade nine English teacher at the rural school I attended after we moved to the farm. I’m surprised because although she was small and neat and soft spoken, no one messed with Mrs. Moorehouse. There was no nonsense in her class. And I feared her from the very first day of school.
Mum and Lloyd had married in June of 1970, and I started my new school in September. I found moving schools difficult. I was fourteen and had a close circle of friends at my old school with whom I’d grown up from grade one. The rural school near the farm was small and tight knit, and I had trouble fitting in. I was shy, skinny, and boyish. I loved sports and drawing and reading. And I was smart and good at school. Usually. But I wasn’t doing very well in my English class.
I remember Mum and Lloyd attended parent-teacher interviews in October. Mum was concerned about my English marks. And about my fitting into the school in general. I wasn’t happy at school which was unusual for me.
I still remember when they returned home the night of the interviews. Over tea in the old kitchen Lloyd said in that slow rumbly voice of his, “You know Snooze, I think that Mrs. Moorehouse is probably a very good teacher. But I couldn’t live with her because I think I’d have to iron my socks.”
I have no idea why that comment has stayed with me for so many years. Maybe because it shows he understood my feelings. That he “got” who Mrs. Moorehouse was. There was no question of my whining about her class. She was a good teacher, and I’d just have to suck it up, even if he commiserated with me.
Lloyd was a kind of no-nonsense person himself. The kindest and safest no-nonsense person I’ve ever met. Maybe the kindness at home offset my fears about school. I don’t know. But somehow, after that, I stopped fearing Mrs. Moorehouse and just learned from her. She really was an amazing teacher.
I think it’s funny that at my age first days of school still create anxiety. Just like when I was a kid. Not the same anxiety that I had as a teacher. That was more nervous excitement. I loved teaching and, after all, teachers are the ones in control. Being a student is a whole other thing. Being a student again creates a fear of failure sort of anxiety. A fear that I may not be brave enough to suck at something new. Because I may indeed suck at painting. Who knows?
But I do know that Kate’s class will be a safe and friendly environment for those of us in her class to try something new. To make mistakes. To laugh. And then try again.
Here’s the link to Kate’s website. You can see her schedule of classes if you live in Ottawa and are interested. And you can also see her own work.
30 thoughts on “First Day of School”
Congratulations on starting something new. Your painting class sounds ideal. And as you know, your mother’s choice of Lloyd as a husband was an excellent one.
Since I retired about 9 years ago, I’ve been looking for a creative practice, something I could do at home regularly as an expressive outlet. I’ve tried drawing classes and last term a printmaking class. I love printmaking. The process of etching into a plate, using acid to deepen the cuts, applying ink and using a printing press to create a finished piece is very satisfying. It can make very ordinary designs look good and the results can be unexpected. I love that about it. But as I will never own a printing press, printmaking isn’t something I can do at home. So this term I started watercolour lessons, which I’m loving. I don’t seem to suffer from “first day at school” nerves. I didn’t have that problem when I was young either. But it’s something my daughter experienced and I was always relieved when that first day of a new class was over and her worries abated.
I’m not sure if I will carry on painting at home when I’ve finished the course. But I love what we’ve been learning so far. Especially since first day nerves are gone. 🙂
I wondered what class you were taking & just assumed it was something physical , like an exercise class , so you surprised me . Like you I always enjoyed drawing as a child . I used to hide away from the sport & physical education classes as I totally hated anything like that . I was a dreamy arty child . Anyway when I was discovered hiding away I was punished by detention but I think they realised they were wasting their time & the lovely art master said I could join his art classes instead . So a happy ending . I’ve dabbled in a few art classes since then including a China painting one which was fun . Most people were into pretty floral patterns but I preferred rather mad art deco designs . There are a few dotted about the kitchen still . I hope you continue to enjoy the class . Kate’s work is very clever , & varied . I especially like the one of the young girl .
I love her animal paintings too. And, Wendy, you would love the two resident dogs. 🙂
Amazing! Yay for the arts!! I can hardly wait to hear more.
Thanks, Sue. 🙂
Hi Sue, good for you taking an art class. I am thinking about taking a watercolor class. I love art, but I’m not really artistic. It just looks so beautiful. Anyway I’m cheating, copying a few reels posted on Instagram. I do it with my grandkids…and yes theirs are always beautiful. I actually do think it the rear of failure holding me back. Thanks for the little nudge.❤️
I love watching the art videos on YouTube. Just watching a painting unfold is fascinating.
My grandmother was a serious amateur painter and so I had my first lessons very young. I’ve always loved doing art and have done a smattering of classes over the years, but would love to pick it up more fully in retirement. I can sometimes be held back by perfectionism or worry about not getting it right, but the way you learn is by doing. Great pick! I hope you enjoy the course and perhaps keep going with it. I like Kate’s figurative work and am struck by the scenes in places like the National Art Gallery (looking down at the benches). Good to know about her studio and courses.
PS Lloyd always sounds like the most grounded and unconditionally loving person, like Matthew in Anne of Green Gables! Everyone needs one of those in their life.
He was just like Matthew in Anne. 🙂
What lovely colours your tutor uses. Before Christmas I went on a short course to learn how to knit socks. It’s been the best thing I’ve done for ages. Very fiddly and I have to concentrate but when I’m tempted to check my phone for the tenth time for the news, I pick up my sock instead and I knit. And then I’m completely distracted. In a world that feels out of control it’s wonderful to create something tangible (if a bit wonky). I even sleep better. It’s costing me a fortune in yarn, though! Yorkshire, where I live, has some very good wool shops.
Sock knitting as a stress reducer… I love it. 🙂
Je ne suis pas du tout douĂ©e pour les arts plastiques , mais alors pas du tout .Mon passe temps ,ma passion , c’est la musique, piano et violoncelle.
Le monde pourrait s’ Ă©crouler quand je joue ,je ne l’ entendrai pas …
Et je jardine ….
J’ai aimĂ© l’Ă©cole et j’ y ai Ă©tĂ© très heureuse parce que dans ma famille ,apprendre Ă©tait une seconde nature …
Le seul problème,si je puis dire ,était mon décalage avec les autres élèves .
Un décalage de quatre à cinq ans selon les élèves .
J’ai ete agrĂ©gĂ©e de Lettres classiques ( le diplĂ´me le plus Ă©levĂ© pour enseigner en France )Ă 20 ans .
Et j’ai Ă©tĂ© reçue Ă ma thèse de doctorat en LittĂ©rature de la Renaissance a 22 ans.
J’ ai adorĂ© ma vie d’Ă©tudiante et de professeur . Apprendre et transmettre ont Ă©tĂ© une source de joie et de plĂ©nitude.
Aujourd’hui je me consacre au jardinage qui est devenu une vĂ©ritable passion. Je lis tout ce qui concerne les plantes qui m’intĂ©ressent, je m’occupe du sol, je plante,je taille ,je dĂ©sherbe . J’ assemble les textures et les couleurs , les floraisons selon les saisons .
Ma prĂ©fĂ©rence va aux roses … En France nous avons fait renaĂ®tre les roses anciennes d’une manière remarquable,en leur donnant la vigueur,la bonne santĂ© et la floribunditĂ© des roses modernes .
J’ en possède une bonne centaine .
L’hiver je consulte les catalogues, les blogs de jardinage…
C’est un nouveau domaine d’exploration et d’ apprentissage…
Je vous souhaite une bonne semaine…
You are a very accomplished woman, Celia. I think that gardening must be very contemplative and a lovely hobby. My mother loved her flower garden. But I do not have the patience.
Realizing how much I enjoyed my drawing and art classes—despite my lackluster products—made me revisit the whole notion of why I was choosing to learn a new skill in my seventies.
Of course I enjoyed the feeling when I was happy with the product—which to be honest was rather rare—but the real fun always was in the messy process of playing with paint, paper, and brushes. The process was exhilarating even when I could see the product was going to be mediocre. But my art teachers didn’t hand out grades, future employment and buyers were not a consideration, and no one really cared if my products went into the garbage or on the wall so I kept going, even if my hubby was prone to holding my masterpieces upside down.
What I did learned from my art teachers was to see the world in a new way: shadows, colors, shapes, light, compositions emerged at most unexpected times and places. I fell into the rabbit hole of colour theory and looked at my wardrobe in a new way. I went to art galleries and marveled at how technique and talent could transform flat paper into something miraculous. Art shops were a playground with always something new to explore.
Sucking at my art class made me realize it really was the process, not the product, which drew me back again and again. It redefined why I was trying something new at my age and opened me up to the fun instead of the frustration.
Took the words right out of my mouth, Marily. I was so pleased when Kate told us that her approach was about building basics and teaching us the process and a new way of looking at everything. That was exactly how I taught creative writing. The process came first. Like you I look forward to playing with colour and learning new skills, whether I’m any good or not.
I spent some years attending weekly classes in silverworking, having always wanted to make my own jewellery. I now have quite the collection, plus some beaten copper pieces. It turns out that I had more aptitude for silversmithing. Basically, hammering and shaping metal. My maiden name was Smith so perhaps it was always there. It was a whole new world, one I wish I had discovered decades before. Good to stretch one’s capabilities. I hope you love it.
I remember your writing about your silversmithing on your blog. I thought at the time that it must have been fun.
Mrs. Moorehouse was also my favourite teacher and my favourite classes were always English. I remember the spelling list to be heard from the campfire notebook also. I would always ask my aunt who was a teacher to read my stories. She had great comments. Because of your post last week I started watching Riot Women- now I’m hooked. We had already watched The Change and found it fascinating. Enjoy your new class !
I still have my English notebooks from grade nine and I even used a couple of Mrs. Moorehouse’s ideas when I started teaching myself. She was a very creative teacher. Hope you are doing okay, Sharon. I know you’ve had a difficult start to the year. xox
Yes, for some reason I thought that once I’d grown up, I wouldn’t be nervous about trying something new! I still have dreams about the first day at school (as a teacher) and not being properly prepared.
I do try new things and just remind myself that it can feel uncomfortable walking into a space that first time…and it always seems to be worth the effort.
Hope you’re enjoying the class!
PS Australian Britbox seems to be a bit behind. Couldn’t find these but hopefully we’ll catch up at some stage during the year and I can enjoy them then.
PPS I can imagine that comment of Lloyd’s staying with you. Some people have the knack of saying just the right thing at the right time.
I am enjoying the class so far. The people make such a difference…the teacher and the other students.
Wow Sue,this is wonderful! It must be lovely to start painting classes,meet new people and enjoy creativity (and to say nothing about the dog,tea and snacks :)). I love Einstein’s quote ” Creativity is intelligence having fun”
After fifty (and a lot of learning and specialization), I’ve taken a couple of economics and law modules on an university here (like Stock Market,European Law in Praxis,etc..)- people did find it weird. Learning italian was such a pleasure,too
I loved school and learning (and buying all the things,still love to buy notebooks and pencils),had a woderful primary teacher,she was such a clever,warm person,with love and discipline for everyone of us. There were many excellent professors later as well (and many not good at all)- this is such a crucial profession in life and state of society
Dottoressa
P. S. I’ve had some problems with comment,so I’ve left it as reply,sorry
I’m sorry you’ve been having commenting problems. I wonder if others have the same issue. I see lots of comments that are actually replies to other comments.
Break a leg, Sue !
Metaphorically speaking. Ha. Thanks.
I broke my leg sixteen years ago, tib’ and fib’ just above my ankle… I can’t say I’d recommend it as a way to get two months off work !
I had some lovely teachers at school and agree the ones who put us at ease were the ones who left a mark.
Would you believe the one who terrified us was the R.I. teacher?
We spent hours rote learning everything for her: can’t remember a thing!
I think I would believe that. I have friends who would concur with that opinion.
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