CityView Magazine

6 August 2023 Mary Zahran, who still loves music by Rodgers and Hammerstein, may be reached at maryzahran@ gmail.com. SOMEDAY YOU'LL THANK ME Going back to school BY MARY ZAHRAN W hen I was a little girl, I would begin my summer vacation by counting the number of days before school began again. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the freedom that came with summer. I could sleep late and stay up long past my usual bedtime. I didn't have to worry about doing homework, studying for tests, or being tormented by my arch nemesis, Frank, who sat beside me in the lunchroom every single day. I loved school and looked forward to going back each year. I wasn't good at sports. I probably wasn't ever going to be a cheerleader or a homecoming queen, but I was a very good student. I felt at home in a classroom. By mid-August, I was ready for school to start again. In the weeks since summer vacation had begun, I had grown tired of my freedom and lack of daily structure. I needed to reacquaint myself with schedules, assignments, and discipline. I always knew who my new teacher was several weeks before school began. Because I was the fourth daughter in my family to attend this school, I already had some sense of what kind of year I could expect. In the second grade, I had Mrs. Lane, whose reputation as a stern disciplinarian was well known by all those who had been foolish enough to test her and all those who had watched her deal with these unruly classmates. On my first day in her class, Mrs. Lane, who had a gray streak in her hair that made her look like Cruella de Vil, went through the usual list of rules for classroom behavior. When she had finished, she strode over to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out what looked like a pingpong paddle. Holding it up for all of us to see, she advised us never to make her pull out this paddle and use it. Although she spoke soly, I had no doubt whatsoever that Mrs. Lane meant business. To the best of my knowledge, she never had to open that drawer during my second-grade year. If my second-grade teacher was renowned for her paddle, my fih-grade teacher would be famous for something possibly even more daunting — her weekly singalongs with her students. Mrs. ompson, who spent the first four days of the school week teaching us math, history and grammar, had decided at some point in her career that Friday aernoons were for listening to and singing songs from Broadway musicals. She was particularly fond of Rodgers and Hammerstein. We were introduced to the Great American Songbook on the very first day of school. Aer going over her classroom rules with us, Mrs. ompson opened the record player she kept near her desk and began to play an album. (I am assuming here that everyone knows what a "record player" and an "album" are.) e song was "Getting to Know You" from "e King and I," which I later discovered was one of her favorite tunes. When the number was finished, Mrs. ompson announced that each of us had to stand up one at a time and "sing" a few pieces of information about ourselves. Suddenly, I was longing for the good old days of a possible paddling from Mrs. Lane, an experience that would have been infinitely less painful than performing an aria to belt out my credentials to my classmates. Somehow, I got through my musical number. To this day, I cannot remember a single thing I sang. Eventually, I grew to enjoy our Friday aernoons. ey were a welcome change from our rigorous schedule during the week, and I was introduced to songs that I still listen to and enjoy. As I grew older, adjusting to a new school year became an increasingly complicated undertaking. I had to learn how to move from one classroom to another in a timely manner. I had to adapt to the rules and expectations of several teachers, not just one. I also had to learn how to navigate much larger and more impersonal school systems. Despite all these changes, I always looked forward to going back to school. A part of me will always feel a little wistful in late August when a new school year begins and I am no longer a part of that experience. However, I am relieved that I never again have to sing my life story to my classmates. When you start with care, you get a different kind of bank. Truist Bank, Member FDIC. © 2022 Truist Financial Corporation. Truist, the Truist logo and Truist Purple are ser vice marks of Truist Financial Corporation.

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