Shadows in the Classroom

We wandered the old classrooms, partly in search of mementos, partly in search of old memories.

Yesterday, Mr. Ginley's old grammar school began selling off old desks, chairs, textbooks and other classroom materials. They closed the facility a few years ago, and we weren't sure if the sale signaled the end of any hopes of another school coming in. If new owners had other plans. Or if it meant the building was going to be demolished.

I took the day off so we could take a look-see.

Mr. began pointing out the classrooms he had been in. The cloak room where he removed his soggy boots before class. The windows that used to be casement style and opened in the early fall and late spring, now permanently sealed shut. Bits and pieces of memories. But mostly, he walked through deep in thought.

I trailed, feeling sadness at the silence. No shuffling of feet. Or chalk dust. (Just dust.) No cacophony of young voices. No lingering energy. Just classrooms filled with chairs tucked neatly under desks. A former science room. A music room that housed percussion instruments and a box filled with sheet music. A primary classroom with blocks and bric-a-brac for creative learning. All of it for sale.

We had decided ahead of time to select a couple of chairs. We'd picked up two of them from another sale at another school many moons ago and found them to be very useful around the house.

So, as Mr. reminisced, I began to search. At the end of our journey, we found stacks of old wooden chairs with metal legs. We selected three, which turned out to be slightly different in size. It was a challenge to find three that were in decent condition (no wobbly back or legs). And that did not have initials etched with a pen knife. Or male genitalia in graphic detail. (How did they manage to carve all that without the teacher noticing?)

Included in our purchase were maps of the building by floor. And an old yardstick -- there was much speculation about whether any of the marks on the well-worn implement could have been made by use of force on Mr. Ginley. (At our school, the nuns used rulers, but when I asked, my husband pointed out the additional 24 inches increased the range of reach.)

We paid for our purchases and loaded them into the car. It will be bittersweet for my husband to have a piece of his childhood living in our home. A comfort, in a way.

But also a reminder of the shadows that live only in memory.