Playing School

My sister Pam was my little Mama. She was always looking out for me when I was little. She was the kind of sister that would push me around on my tricycle or push me on the swing when a needed a boost. Pam loved playing school in the afternoons when she'd get off the school bus. Some of my fondest memories from my early (pre-school) days were of Pam taking me into her makeshift schoolroom and teaching me the alphabet and all the phonics sounds, and how to count, add, and subtract. The first time Mother ever took Pam and Donna Jo to the dentist, they came home with a little coloring book called "Hilda the Happy Tooth." Pam thought it would be fun to let her little toddler sister color in it. After coloring a picture or two, I remember her sitting on the bed with me and teaching me the words in the book. I learned how to read every word in the "Hilda the Happy Tooth" book within the week. Pam's playtime became my early childhood education. I was a proficient reader by the age of three. I remember starting first grade and being so disappointed that they were only teaching kids the letters of the alphabet. I already read at a third grade level and could do elementary math! I believe it was those early days with Pam giving me a love for learning that paved the way for my career as an elementary teacher. I love the classroom better than any place on earth, and I love my sister for all the love and care she has given me throughout my adult life, too. (We won't talk about how she treated me when she reached the pre-teen to teenage years. It probably didn't have ANYTHING to do with my coloring all over the face of her favorite doll Betty. Oh, and did a break Betty's arm, too? I don't remember.)

I love my sisters!!!!!! Nobody needed preschool back in those days, because playing school was just another part of entertaining yourself. Yep, times were simple then, when kids were kids. When no swear words were allowed on TV or radio, and Ricky and Lucy slept in separate beds. When Mamas and Daddies ruled the roost and there was no talking back. When going to church was as natural as eating, sleeping, and breathing. When suppers were shared together around the table, and evenings were spent together in the family room catching up on the events of the day. When weekends were for cartoons, yardwork, and church. When neighbors were friends and days were long. These are the misty, water-colored memories from the corners of my mind. This is the way we were.