(If you’re interested, here’s Nostalgia I, complete with awesome comments from RtB fiends.)
Do you find yourself getting melancholy about things that have passed into obscurity? Yesterday — and I don’t know why — I had a major attack of it.
Maybe it had something to do with fifth grade. In choir yesterday, I pulled out a song for the fun of it. “Pinball Wizard,” by The Who. Out of 40-some 10- and 11-year-olds, only a handful knew what a pinball machine was, so I got to describe it for them, which was surprisingly challenging. HA
As is my custom, if there are weird lyrics in a tune, we read through the text and define anything that needs clarification. Had my hands full with Pinball Wizard:
- Soho, Brighton
- Always gets a replay
- Bally table king
- Crazy flippin’ fingers
The cool thing about 5th graders is that they’re still somewhat impressionable. That is to say, they don’t know it all yet. We had a nice discussion. It was fun watching them wrap their brains around it.
It got me thinking about lots of other bygone issues, especially after I read this in the Columbus Dispatch. As if book knowledge on a subject is the prime indicator of teaching ability…good lord, people. Anyway, I thought about (*wince*) when I was in school — when things were different, to wit:
- Teachers and administrators didn’t field daily calls from parents, blaming their child’s bad grade/bad behavior on the school.
- It wasn’t unusual for a smart-mouthed kid to be slammed up against a locker by a teacher once in awhile. It served as a fantastic deterrent.
- Kids. Just. Didn’t. Talk back to teachers. Regardless of how we felt about Mr. Smalley, we never sassed him. Nobody did. We respected him as an adult.
- If I had sassed Mr. Smalley, I could only imagine the horrifying fate that awaited me at home, after my parents found out.
- Writing classes were compulsory at the high school level.
- “Latch key kids” were the exception.
I know, I know. Times change, so get on the train or it’ll leave without you. But I will put in writing for the first time here: I worry about the future my grandchildren will face as adults. Makes me all nostalgy for the olden days…