One of My Favorite Years

There are just those years of life and school that just jump from the pages of your memory; fourth grade was one of those years. It was just a special year. I remember the boys realized that we girls existed, because we knew they had existed for years. I remember the boys "harassing us" and us girls giggling and giggling. Of course the boy that you hit or chased the most was the one you liked.

I loved my teacher. She was a seasoned teacher, much older than my first three teachers. She loved history and made it come alive, making it the only subject I remember from fourth grade. Books that I read….I have no clue. 

My fondest memory of school that year was...rubbed on pantyhose. Each morning, after arriving at school, a group of girls would meet in the entry way bathroom. I don't know who brought it, but one girl had access to leg cream that would make our legs look like we were wearing pantyhose. I am sure our mother's forbid us from wearing pantyhose because we weren't old enough, but we knew how to have the look. Meeting in the bathroom we would take off our socks and rub down our legs with the cream. On our way home we would meet in the bathroom to wash our legs off….I just have to laugh, don't you know those teachers saw our streaked legs and giggled in the teacher's lounge? We felt we were "so grown up" and had pulled something over on our moms. Feeling stylish with my side pony tail, it was a year of feeling "big".

This was the time of the Cold War with Russia and the country still prepared in case of an attack. We would have bomb drills. We would be led out into the hall to curl up in a fetal position with our hands clasp around the back of our necks, for protection. It seemed like we would stay there forever, but it brought a welcome change in the school day. Fire drills were our favorite distraction because we would go outside and everyone would talk, while the teachers were telling us to be quite. My children have all been homeschooled and had their first fire drill in college.
                                                                                
I started Girl Scouts having finished Brownies. This included selling cookies and summer camp. Summer day camp was good food, lots of girls, crafts and salt pills at lunch.
 

My sister and I would start outside lessons. This year we tried baton and ballet. The baton was so much fun. We would take it outside and throw it up as high as we could in the air, then attempt to catch it as it came back to the earth…I don't remember many successful catches, but I do remember the laughter and the bruised arms. Ballet was just wonderful. We would perform in front of my parents, who tell the story of trying not to laugh, while my sister and I would try to show them our graceful new dances. One of us was very coordinated while the other one was all arms. Let's just say my sister's talent wasn't in dance, but she passed me up in her piano playing. I would be very serious about my ballet, while my sister, 14 months younger, would be more captivated by the giggles of the viewers. She would perform, while I would work on my skills.

Our family would also venture out for another family vacation. This summer we would mark the states that we had covered…Louisiana, Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Mississippi and part of Illinois. We boarded a show boat in Mississippi, and visited two Indian reservations.

I rode a banana seat bike. Listened to Beach Boys on 45 records…Beatles weren't ever allowed in our house. We watched the Sonny and Cher Show and Carol Barnett on our single television in our family den. My father usually enjoyed his evening outside in his shop making bullets and custom-made knifes.

We cut down a "huge" Christmas tree from a friend's land. It was so large it extended from the tail pipe of our station wagon to the hood ornament on the front. When we got it home we wondered what we were thinking…shoving it through the door it couldn't even stand up in our house. My engineer father was undaunted by the size, pulled out his saw to cut off the truck and then nailed it the beam in our A-frame ceiling. The branches were so far apart that my mother used them like shelves for our gifts. So instead of gifts surrounding the tree they were up in the tree.

Just a sweet time of life!

I am continuing on my journey with Mommy Piggy Tales, where we are recording our youth for our children.