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Lazy, Hazy, Bonfire Crazy
Do you remember what June was like when you were an elementary school kiddo? I do, especially the fourth grade at St. John’s in Weston. The anticipation of being set free on the very last day of classes was intoxicating for me. But I did love that last month of classes. I loved the special class outings, the field day, the day when our teacher had had enough of the ABCs and 123s and turned to an arts and crafts day. I loved how the old school building stayed cool until suddenly it wasn’t. At recess we all talked about what we were going to do in the summer and hoped our classroom teacher didn’t ask us to think about writing a composition about our July and August adventures for our return in September. Yup, like most of the kids I knew, I never thought June would end. But it did!
Near the end of June our grade four teacher moved some of our classes outdoors just to catch a bit of a breeze. Many days we played a seemingly never-ending game of “move ups” on the ball diamond. Sometimes we read under one of the spindly trees in the schoolyard. In our grade four class we were treated to “film strips” about safety and health and, occasionally, the “film strips” were stories about faraway places. Mr. Wright tipped his hat to education with a soupçon of fun. He brought his reel-to-reel tape machine to play the narrative for the film strip stories. A little chime would remind the “projectionist,” one of the students, to skip to the next image. If you were lucky you got to be the “clicker” of the film strip machine button, a very important job with lots of responsibility, dontcha know! It was the only time we were allowed to put our heads down on our desks (some of us snoozed), or just slouch in our seats, or sit with a “best friend.” I don’t remember the stories but remember some of the characters in the health and safety strips. And our teacher never asked any questions after the show. I’m sure he’d had enough by the month of June. So film strips didn’t really feel like any kind of lesson. We weren’t expected to know “what the author was trying to say.” It was just a hot June afternoon watching a character named Magic Bow telling us to “look both ways” or “walk facing traffic” or “don’t go anywhere with strangers.” Most of my grade four class lived in the same small community. So as little kiddos we felt there were no strangers. We knew everyone by name. Maybe our teacher should have warned us about what the author meant by “strangers.” (Sometimes I think the creator of “Magic Bow” knew about the abduction of Native children who were then sent to residential schools.)
As the month progressed and the heat built, we were reminded to wash our faces and hands before returning to the classroom, obviously to keep the delicate aroma of forty-five sweaty kids down to a dull roar. June was also a time to clear out the cloakroom and go through lost and found. Nothing like finding the toque your Granny knitted for you, or your woolly mittens and the itchy scarf, in the big cardboard box. I remember the teacher laughing when we turned the lost and found exercise into a fashion show. We didn’t see him laugh very often. One day, just before dismissal, we were told to remember to bring twenty-five cents to pay for the bus, to bring a bagged lunch with a drink and a snack because we were going on a trip to the Royal Ontario Museum. Imagine!! I’d been many times to the ROM with my family. However, most of our grade four class had never been any further than the little community where we lived. It was an amazing adventure. If you know me, and mostly you don’t, you know I have a “thing” about museums. Oh my, the mummies, the massive Totems, the dioramas, the stuffed birds, the beautiful butterflies pinned to white boards and all of those crazy dinosaur bones! June always brought the promise of the hot, hazy days of summer. June was about helping Mom transplant seedlings to the garden. June was the excitement of the upcoming family camping trip and the marvellous, magical bonfires in the yard. June was report cards, usually distributed by the Principal, who didn’t hesitate to praise, or humiliate.
June has always been the transition month for me. Happy June to you. Time to transition into lazy, hazy, bonfire-crazy!
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