Monday, August 25, 2014

Back to School

The first student I saw was a boy of five or six, walking with his mother. He had on dark cardigan, tie, and slacks, and a white shirt. I could see by not quite read the school's device on his sweater: the initials ended in DS, presumably Day School; but the two or three schools I can think of that call themselves such are a good ways away from Spring Road and 16th St. NW.

After that there were children and teens from schools obvious and not. Obvious were the teenagers in Bell High School shirts and their juniors in Lincoln Middle School shirts. Not obvious were the boy in white tennis shirt and dark slacks at Park Road and the little girl in a plaid jumper at Euclid St. Either or both could have been headed for Sacred Heart Academy, but I don't remember the girls' plaid, or the boys' uniform there.

It seems to me that I usually enjoyed the first day of school, however disenchanted I might become. There was the promise of a fresh start and things to be learned, for one thing. There was the promise of fall, as well, a wonderful season in the Midwest, with cool weather, colorful leaves, and football, on TV and in the back yard.

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