Try to Remember the Days of September

It seems to me that September is almost more like the beginning of a new year than January, especially if you are involved in school. There are new clothes, new books, new teachers, new classmates, etc.

When I think back to my own school experience, and especially to new beginnings, an incident in Grade 3 stands out for me and I remember it as if it happened yesterday.  

It was 1953. A year earlier our family had arrived in Canada from Paraguay and that first year my siblings and I attended a little country school in Alberta within walking distance of our house. Most of the children in that school were Mennonite and so was the teacher who was my mother's cousin.
(See blog post of Sept.1, 2015  >>  http://ens-intransit.blogspot.ca/2015/09/two-little-words.html/ .)

When that year was done, I understood English but wasn't yet speaking it. Our family moved into a small town (Didsbury) where my father found work in a dairy. For us children it meant a new school in town and more adjustments. My mother's work was to feed and dress seven children and keep the household running. She also took in sewing and alterations from people in town. Often they would give her used clothes and she would remake them to fit us. She was an excellent seamstress and this saved a lot of money. However, we were still new to Canada and she wasn't always aware of the latest trends. Winters were cold and we had a half hour walk to school. Mom made me a jacket with a fur collar and a fur-lined hat. It was warm and cozy but I did receive some remarks from classmates that weren't exactly flattering.

My siblings and I on our way to school. I'm on the right in the back with my fur collar and fur-lined hat.

I was very fortunate to have Miss Margaret Robertson as my teacher. She was young, with short dark brown hair, thick-lensed glasses and a lot of lipstick. She had a warm and tender heart for children and was very sensitive to their needs. I will always be grateful to her for what she did for me that year.

To get the class off to a good start in the morning we had "show-and-tell" and anyone could volunteer to share something special with the class. I so badly wanted to participate but I was afraid to use the English words, knowing that they would come out wrong and people would laugh at me. Being the sensitive teacher that she was, Miss Robertson knew this about me. She also knew that some children had made comments about my fur collar. 

One morning during show-and-tell she called me to the front. That day I was wearing a blue-checked dress with a blue taffeta vest which my mother had made recently. I'm wearing it for our class picture (below center).

Miss Robertson told the class to look at my dress carefully because it was very special. She asked if anyone had ever seen it in a store. No one had. She said it was because there was only one dress like it in the whole world and I was wearing it; my mother had made it for me. The class responded with great amazement and applause.

I was suddenly very special in the eyes of my classmates, and that year I was invited to the birthday party of the principal's daughter who was in my class. The principal, Mr. Wiggins, was also the town photographer and took the photo above. The birthday girl is on the left in the back row, seated. I am second from the right in the back row. My mother made that dress for me as well. It was pink with black velvet ribbons.

Miss Robertson also picked me to be a flower in a play about Little Red Riding Hood. I was so happy to be a flower because Miss Robertson told the class that flowers were beautiful and smelled nice! I felt so lovely that day! I am second from the left in the front row.

Kind teachers who are understanding and loving are so important in the life of a child. I wish I could tell Miss Robertson what an influence she had on my life. This post is dedicated to her, as a thank-you.

Do you know someone like Miss Robertson? Or, perhaps you have had a teacher who had a very negative influence on you. How did that affect you? It would be interesting to hear your story!

Try to remember the kind of September

When life was slow and oh, so mellow.

Try to remember the kind of September

When grass was green and grain was yellow

..........

Deep in December it's nice to remember

The fire of September that made us mellow ...

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