It's that time of year again. Back To School. It was, believe it or not, one of my fondest memories about school. It wasn't the actual return, although the idea of reuniting with friends and forming new comraderies was nice, the part I enjoyed most, was the anticipation of the return. Like the countdown of a clock, the excitement would grow.
I grew up on a farm outside the city, so summer vacation was quite limited, unlike the kids who grew up in the city. I didn't have a neighbour two or three doors down that I could hang out with all summer. My closest friend lived about five or six miles down the highway. Biking to his house would later become an option, but as a youngster, it wasn't safe to venture down the highway alone, even back then. So my summer vacations were comprised of pretty much staying home and entertaining myself.
When the prospect of returning to school began to permeate, it was an exciting premise. Reuniting with schoolmates, seeing some new faces, forming new friendships. Playing games and having fun with actual people and not just in my own head. The one aspect that I found more enjoyable than this, however, was the shopping for school supplies. It was a joy that continues to this day.
Recently, I found myself in the stationary aisle at one of the big box stores, my eyes focused and scanning the many shelves and hooks at all the wondrous items. Hundreds of pen styles and colourful markers. Even today, I continue to buy shit, storing them all in a basket in my home office, rarely even opening them to use. I have stuff, here, that I've paid good money for, stored away and have never looked at since it's purchase, except only to remind myself that I have it, when I go searching for another item. When Target closed up their stores, I went in there and cleaned house. I bought a shit-ton of discounted items, which I then stored up in my home office and haven't laid eyes on since. Pens, paper, markers, rulers, paint, staples, paperclips... You name it, there's a chance that I may have it.
When I was a kid, the joy was the same. Books, binders, loose leaf, crayons, etcetera. It was crazy. Crazy cool and crazy fun. I felt that the choice in scribblers and binders would define me as a person. Help me standout from the crowd. Make me special, perhaps. Maybe another student may admire me or be impressed by something that I had, that they did not. I was hoping to be admired, I think.
We never had a lot of money when I was growing up, so I appreciated everything that I got. However, the year I was allowed to have the 48pk of Crayola's, I was over the moon with excitement. I felt like a Rockefeller. Striding into school with my bag of goodies and unpacking my bounty for all to see. Anticipating the excitement of the neighbouring child looking over and reveling the appearance of the illustrious 48pk of crayons, which shadowed their pitiful 12 or 24pk crayons. The very children who should have showered me with glory, instead commented on my 48pk, saying, "Those are nice, but have you seen Scott's 64pk of crayons?" Suddenly, the wind had suddenly disappeared and stopped filling my sails. I was foiled by the new kid.
Scott was the new kid. He had arrived in school late the previous spring, but all-in-all, he was still the "new" kid, as there wasn't anyone newer to replace him. Scott had come to our school the previous year, arriving on a day when I was at home sick. When I came to school, I asked to play with a friend, who told me NO, telling me that the "new kid was more fun". That damaged my fragile ego as a seven year old. After that initial shock, I felt like I was having to catch up and continued to feel that way for a very long time. I never became friends with Scott. I don't know if it were out of resentment or if it was just that he was a cocky little shit. To this day, I couldn't give you a definitive answer.
Scott's family had migrated from Europe. One of the Scandinavian countries. I can't remember which one, but he did bring his father's wooden shoes to Show-And-Tell one time, so whichever country that was. His family had money, obviously, because the 64pk of Crayola's was not cheap. It was the package that had the pencil sharpener in the back so your crayons would always perform at their pique best.
I was always a shy kid, so anytime I thought I could be special and liked by the other children, was a positive thing, but when I continued to get shit on and foiled by those who would eventually come to bully me, school wasn't all that much fun. I can't imagine the enormous pressure kids must have nowadays. What with social media and all that other bullshit. I had it easy by comparison. In some ways, though, I still feel like that shy little boy who wanted nothing more than to be liked and make friends. These days, I have a few friends. Not many that I spend an evening with socially. Time, family and distance has all but robbed me of those joys. I still cherish every single relationship that I've made. Wish I could see some people more. Share some laughs.
That's kind of how I view some of these new jobs that I've started. I size people up and wonder, if we'll be friends. Go out and see a movie or something... So far, it's a no go, but at least I have some that remain by my side. Give me the support that I need, for which I thank them all.
Holy shit!! Can you imagine the dreams being crushed by the kid who brings this incredible collection of pencil crayons to school? 😬
No comments:
Post a Comment