*****450th POST *****
Once again, I have chosen to write a short story instead of my typical rhyming verse.
The Scar
The walls were made of concrete block painted in an
institutional mint green. I remember it
well. I was standing in line in the
hallway of my elementary school. I was wearing
a pleated skirt, a button-up blouse with a peter pan collar, rolled down white
bobby socks and a pair of Buster Brown shoes.
I had a short pixie haircut. It
was in the mid-1960’s. Standing on that
black and white tile floor in anticipation of what was to come, I was seeing
the children before me with their sleeves rolled up and the winces on their faces. It was smallpox vaccination day. No parents were there; no hands were
held. Everyone at school that day was
being vaccinated. It was a different time, no doubt about it. It was like no other shot any of us had ever
received before. They actual shot was
given with what looked like a “gun” with a trigger. It injected us with multiple needles, and the
wound was immediately covered with a gauze bandage taped to our arm. I don’t remember it being too painful. I don’t remember children crying or resisting
the process. It was just expected of us
to stand in line quietly awaiting our turn while watching the person in front
of us go first. I guess there is safety in numbers as the saying goes. Afterwards, we returned to our classroom as if
nothing had happened. We would go on
with our day of reading, writing and arithmetic, recess and a bus ride home.
The site of the vaccine would develop into a red itchy bump.
We were continuously reminded not to scratch it. The wound after a week became a puffy, pus-filled
blister and began to drain. In the
second week it began to dry up and form a scab.
The third week the scab would eventually fall off. It was a right-of-passage. A permanent scar would forever be embedded on
my left upper arm along with everyone else who is now over 40 years of age. Literally everyone had it at the same time,
so it was not considered such an extraordinary event. We did it together, like a school assignment.
Now after researching the smallpox vaccine, I have found
that it is given with a bifurated needle (two-pronged) that actually does not
puncture the skin into the subcutaneous tissue like most shots do. It instead pricks the skin’s dermis
only. The needle is designed to prick
the skin 15 times in a few seconds which creates the sore spot and maybe one or
two drops of blood.
In this unprecedented time of Covid and now Monkeypox
threatening our world, it does bring back these memories of a simpler
time. A time when all the elementary
school children were lined up in the hall and inoculated. The memories flood
back of those elementary school days, and I remember standing every morning
with our hand over our hearts to say the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. A flag hung in every classroom. It was a safe place. There was no fear of violence against us
except for the fact that corporal punishment was allowed. On occasion, we could hear the sound of a
“paddling” echoing down the hall. The
student had to bend over and grab their ankles, and the principal delivered 3
strikes to the buttocks with his wooden paddle.
This was the discipline of the times.
Lunchtime was a welcomed event. The lunchroom was a boisterous place, but if
it got too loud a monitor would blow the whistle, and everyone would have to
remain silent. With a little extra lunch
money, ice cream could be purchased for dessert. The Mayfield ice cream was packaged in small
plastic containers with a cardboard pull-away lid with a flat wooden “spoon”. Everyone wanted that, but first we had to eat
the mystery meat, vegetables and fruit on our plates, or whatever I brought in my
red plaid metal lunchbox.
The much-anticipated playground time for us girls was a spot
of dirt next to the brick wall where the grass was worn away by the turning of
the jump rope. A person on each end
continuously turned the rope while we had to learn to “run in” and jump to a
jump rope rhyming chant called out by the other girls. Some of the old
favorites were: “Cinderella”, “Miss Mary Mack” and “Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear”. Of course, there were monkey bars, a slide
and swings at the jungle gym, but nothing fancy like today’s playsets. There was
a game of kickball going on periodically. On the occasion that the weather was bad,
we would go to the gymnasium for recess.
Those highly polished basketball courts were slippery in our slick-soled
patent leather shoes and made it challenging to play dodgeball. I do recall receiving my first PF Flyers
athletic sneakers, but mostly I remember those red dodge balls gave quite a
sting when they hit my skin. Four square and hopscotch were other popular games
we played inside or outside during recess, and possibly my favorite game of all
was Four Square.
Besides making it to the fourth Square, one of the highlights
of the day was being chosen by the teacher to take the chalkboard erasers
outside to clean them. Gathering up all
of them, a student was allowed to clap them together or against the brick on
the building which usually produced a big white cloud of chalk! Another coveted role was given in the sixth
grade. Certain students, considered
responsible, were chosen to be safety patrols leaders. Their job was to help with carpool lines and assist
in getting younger students out of the cars and safely to their classroom. I was fortunate enough to be chosen, and I
wore the bright yellow safety patrol sash proudly.
There were no electronics, no computers, no social
media. There were very few distractions. We were elated to have the privilege to check
out a library book from the school library.
Yes. We had televisions. Walter Cronkite was on every evening, but
that was about the only source of news, with the exception of the newspaper. The news was not in real time, although on
occasion the regular scheduled programming would be interrupted for a national
event. I remember the funerals of both
Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy being shown on our television as they
were happening. The greatest form of
communication was the telephone. Of
course, it was corded and connected to the wall, so no calls were made or
received unless you were home. I
remember my grandmother had a party-line which is when two or more families
share the same phone number. Sometimes
when I picked up her phone to call out, someone was already talking on the
line. I was taught to hang up quickly
and never eaves drop on someone else’s call.
This was a time when a year seemed like forever. Now, at 62, years fly by in a flash. Where did
my 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and 50’s go? As I
grow older, I can remember specific memories more clearly from long ago. The world has changed so much since I was a
girl. Technological advancements have made
the world so much smaller. While so much
has changed, so much has remained the same.
For example, the eradication of smallpox was successful, but pandemics
still are not a thing of the past. We are always evolving, always changing, but
it is nice sometimes to remember the “good old days” in elementary school when
life was simpler.
Tammy Harvey
8/15/2022
