Note: The following essay has been rewritten from the original, which was published in the Houston Chronicle "Texas Magazine" in 2002...JFH.
It all started with first grade in 1950. It was to be the year I learned many things, not the least of which was to conform... or suffer the consequences. There was no escaping the rules, and being a shy and obedient six year old, I wanted more than anything to please the adults in my life. I knew that if I did everything my parents and teacher told me, I would go to Heaven.
The indoctrination began on that very first day of school: "Learn to color between the lines...like this," Teacher said as she held up a classmate's artwork displaying a neat blue band across the top for sky and a neat green band across the bottom for earth. My picture, on the other hand, displayed a sky and earth whirled recklessly together with colors more common to a 64 count crayola box than nature. First Grade Rule Number One:" Color Between the Lines".
There were other new rules that went against the essence of childhood... although in later years, the rules made more sense to me: No wading in the creek. No climbing trees. Without these outlets, we turned to watching the janitor's hogs. It being a somewhat rural area, it seemed not at all unusual for Mr. Pigg ( yes, that was actually his last name) to pen up his porkers behind the school and feed them the ton of scraps from our lunch. It began to be a source of entertainment to watch the animals scarf down our cafeteria leftovers...especially the green peas which comprised over half of the swill.
Lesson #1: Nothing really fun lasts forever. Teacher decided we needed organized "social" games, like "Red Rover" and "Farmer in the Dell", neither of which made sense to me, but I followed along Obviously, watching pigs feed was never going to be an actual part of recess if she had her way.
By the time Teacher got us under control, it was time for the Spring Pageant. The boys and girls selling the most tickets would be crowned kings and queens for each grade. With the number of realtives I had, it was inevitable ...but still a shock to me: I somehow ended up Queen of the First Grade. My relatives bought up every ticket I had with little effort on my part...often wrenching it from my sweaty little paws. I wasn't sure what went with that title, but I had to be the best queen I could be Me...who was so bashful, I hid behind the door when strangers came to our house.
My coronation costume was as unique as the person who made it. "Aunt Ruby" was a distant, elderly relative on my mother's side She bustled into the house one day with tape measure, crepe paper, and inspiration. She had come, she said, to "whip up the stage dress" It was to be a creation of tier after flouncy tier of buttercup yellow crepe paper, which when finished, stood out stiffly and crinkly.... and wonderful.
The King of the First Grade was to be crowned "King Charles", although some of the other boys called him various other names. He and I were given rules for entering the auditorium and standing in place on stage. Things had to be done "THE RIGHT WAY" Teacher said. "Children remember...kings must stay to the left and Queens to the right. Always." When the music started, we were to walk with the rest of elementary school royalty to the stage. We were to stand next to floor length, torch-like candlesticks, complete with lighted candles atop. There was to be a crowning ceremony, and then we would traipse off stage. How difficult could it be? There was no way we could mess it up. All I had to do was remember that critical "Stay on the Right Side Rule". I focused on it with all my might.
The night of the pageant, I arrived at the school auditorium with my family. Decked out in Aunt Ruby's creation, I floated into a feminine gaggle of taffeta and lace. I was the only one wearing crepe paper... yellow at that. I was like a renegade canary in a flock of doves. King Charles arrived with hair slicked down, wearing a bow tie, holding flowers. He stumbled toward me after a gentle push from his mother. I had no idea why he was carrying a bouquet in place of his usual water pistol. For some reason, he handed them to me. I thought maybe he wanted me to hold them for him, because he was embarrassed.
Suddenly piano music drifted out from the auditorium, and the older kids pushed us to the front. I remember nothing about walking down the aisle to the stage. I have no idea if I remembered that critical " Right Side Rule" or if I even remembered to breathe. My brain had been flash-frozen by fear.
Somehow, I ended up on stage before a packed auditorium, standing next to the torches whose flames burned brightly in the darkness. I felt sick with sheer, mindless panic. My knees began to shake, and the crepe paper flounces rustled like a cornfield in a windstorm. I was about to end my reign by keeling over... or worse...throwing up in front of hundreds of loyal subjects. There went my kingdom in one swoop of indignity. I couldn't even get myself crowned without flubbing it. In an effort to steady myself, I grabbed the candleholder for support. So desperate was my grip, that as I swayed to one side, I pulled the lighted taper toward me...a sinking girl-queen grasping a flaming life line.
I heard one huge common gasp from the darkened auditorium.
"Move!Move!Move!" ... "Oh No!" came the shouts. All I saw were the whites of hundreds of eyes...all focusing on me, the Queen of the First Grade. Ha, that was a joke.What a miserable queen. Then I heard the wooden seats flipping up in unison and imagined the entire audience storming the stage.
I knew what I had done! I had forgotten the Right Side Rule. Everyone else knew it too.
"Trade places quick," I whispered to to King Charles. "I'm on the wrong side!"
The dazed boy-king actually obeyed, maybe for the last time in his life. I handed him back his bouquet. I had held it for him long enough. He looked at me dumbfounded but took the posey of viloets and held them in front of him with shaking hands. I knew I was going down fast. My crepe paper dress rustled harder. My shaky legs began to buckle, and as I gripped the other floor length candlestick, it began to move with me. The flame felt warmer and warmer, as my cardboard crown shifted with each sway of my shaking body.
Now people were out of their seats and shouting at me. Was there no pleasing them? Hadn't I finally remembered the Right Side Rule? I looked off stage to Teacher for direction, but her mouth was opened in a silent scream of horror. I knew as soon as she came to her senses she was coming to take away my crown. Suddenly, someone rushed the stage and huffed mightily in an effort to extinquish the candles. It was all too much. The curtains closed, and my reign had ended. I had failed miserably.
Mother looked both distraught and relieved as she talked to Teacher. I picked up words like "fire," "candles", "crepe paper". Mother was saying things like "If I had only known..."
That's when Truth wormed its way down into my petrified brain. At last I knew the truth.
After the most exciting pageant in school history came to an end, life went on as usual. Teacher looked at me with eyes filled with pity. She even let me draw and color as I pleased, although her mouth tensed at the idea of running over the lines. I learned a lot in first grade, but I never learned exactly what was expected of me. Even now, I tend to run beyond the borders of convention...just a little... still... always... looking for that line.I just know it's there somewhere.
It all started with first grade in 1950. It was to be the year I learned many things, not the least of which was to conform... or suffer the consequences. There was no escaping the rules, and being a shy and obedient six year old, I wanted more than anything to please the adults in my life. I knew that if I did everything my parents and teacher told me, I would go to Heaven.
The indoctrination began on that very first day of school: "Learn to color between the lines...like this," Teacher said as she held up a classmate's artwork displaying a neat blue band across the top for sky and a neat green band across the bottom for earth. My picture, on the other hand, displayed a sky and earth whirled recklessly together with colors more common to a 64 count crayola box than nature. First Grade Rule Number One:" Color Between the Lines".
There were other new rules that went against the essence of childhood... although in later years, the rules made more sense to me: No wading in the creek. No climbing trees. Without these outlets, we turned to watching the janitor's hogs. It being a somewhat rural area, it seemed not at all unusual for Mr. Pigg ( yes, that was actually his last name) to pen up his porkers behind the school and feed them the ton of scraps from our lunch. It began to be a source of entertainment to watch the animals scarf down our cafeteria leftovers...especially the green peas which comprised over half of the swill.
Lesson #1: Nothing really fun lasts forever. Teacher decided we needed organized "social" games, like "Red Rover" and "Farmer in the Dell", neither of which made sense to me, but I followed along Obviously, watching pigs feed was never going to be an actual part of recess if she had her way.
By the time Teacher got us under control, it was time for the Spring Pageant. The boys and girls selling the most tickets would be crowned kings and queens for each grade. With the number of realtives I had, it was inevitable ...but still a shock to me: I somehow ended up Queen of the First Grade. My relatives bought up every ticket I had with little effort on my part...often wrenching it from my sweaty little paws. I wasn't sure what went with that title, but I had to be the best queen I could be Me...who was so bashful, I hid behind the door when strangers came to our house.
My coronation costume was as unique as the person who made it. "Aunt Ruby" was a distant, elderly relative on my mother's side She bustled into the house one day with tape measure, crepe paper, and inspiration. She had come, she said, to "whip up the stage dress" It was to be a creation of tier after flouncy tier of buttercup yellow crepe paper, which when finished, stood out stiffly and crinkly.... and wonderful.
The King of the First Grade was to be crowned "King Charles", although some of the other boys called him various other names. He and I were given rules for entering the auditorium and standing in place on stage. Things had to be done "THE RIGHT WAY" Teacher said. "Children remember...kings must stay to the left and Queens to the right. Always." When the music started, we were to walk with the rest of elementary school royalty to the stage. We were to stand next to floor length, torch-like candlesticks, complete with lighted candles atop. There was to be a crowning ceremony, and then we would traipse off stage. How difficult could it be? There was no way we could mess it up. All I had to do was remember that critical "Stay on the Right Side Rule". I focused on it with all my might.
The night of the pageant, I arrived at the school auditorium with my family. Decked out in Aunt Ruby's creation, I floated into a feminine gaggle of taffeta and lace. I was the only one wearing crepe paper... yellow at that. I was like a renegade canary in a flock of doves. King Charles arrived with hair slicked down, wearing a bow tie, holding flowers. He stumbled toward me after a gentle push from his mother. I had no idea why he was carrying a bouquet in place of his usual water pistol. For some reason, he handed them to me. I thought maybe he wanted me to hold them for him, because he was embarrassed.
Suddenly piano music drifted out from the auditorium, and the older kids pushed us to the front. I remember nothing about walking down the aisle to the stage. I have no idea if I remembered that critical " Right Side Rule" or if I even remembered to breathe. My brain had been flash-frozen by fear.
Somehow, I ended up on stage before a packed auditorium, standing next to the torches whose flames burned brightly in the darkness. I felt sick with sheer, mindless panic. My knees began to shake, and the crepe paper flounces rustled like a cornfield in a windstorm. I was about to end my reign by keeling over... or worse...throwing up in front of hundreds of loyal subjects. There went my kingdom in one swoop of indignity. I couldn't even get myself crowned without flubbing it. In an effort to steady myself, I grabbed the candleholder for support. So desperate was my grip, that as I swayed to one side, I pulled the lighted taper toward me...a sinking girl-queen grasping a flaming life line.
I heard one huge common gasp from the darkened auditorium.
"Move!Move!Move!" ... "Oh No!" came the shouts. All I saw were the whites of hundreds of eyes...all focusing on me, the Queen of the First Grade. Ha, that was a joke.What a miserable queen. Then I heard the wooden seats flipping up in unison and imagined the entire audience storming the stage.
I knew what I had done! I had forgotten the Right Side Rule. Everyone else knew it too.
"Trade places quick," I whispered to to King Charles. "I'm on the wrong side!"
The dazed boy-king actually obeyed, maybe for the last time in his life. I handed him back his bouquet. I had held it for him long enough. He looked at me dumbfounded but took the posey of viloets and held them in front of him with shaking hands. I knew I was going down fast. My crepe paper dress rustled harder. My shaky legs began to buckle, and as I gripped the other floor length candlestick, it began to move with me. The flame felt warmer and warmer, as my cardboard crown shifted with each sway of my shaking body.
Now people were out of their seats and shouting at me. Was there no pleasing them? Hadn't I finally remembered the Right Side Rule? I looked off stage to Teacher for direction, but her mouth was opened in a silent scream of horror. I knew as soon as she came to her senses she was coming to take away my crown. Suddenly, someone rushed the stage and huffed mightily in an effort to extinquish the candles. It was all too much. The curtains closed, and my reign had ended. I had failed miserably.
Mother looked both distraught and relieved as she talked to Teacher. I picked up words like "fire," "candles", "crepe paper". Mother was saying things like "If I had only known..."
After the most exciting pageant in school history came to an end, life went on as usual. Teacher looked at me with eyes filled with pity. She even let me draw and color as I pleased, although her mouth tensed at the idea of running over the lines. I learned a lot in first grade, but I never learned exactly what was expected of me. Even now, I tend to run beyond the borders of convention...just a little... still... always... looking for that line.I just know it's there somewhere.
