September 11, 2002

'Mr. Leiva' goes back to school

By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor
       Despite not carrying a backpack of #2 pencils or metal super heroes lunchbox, I still go back to school each year. These days, however, my hall pass is a 'Mr. Leiva' name tag.
      Earlier this week, Norris Elementary School was kind enough to open their doors for a back to school photo page. Wandering the halls was a step back in time to lockers without locks, big-lined paper and hot lunch trays. The formative years of reading, writing and everyone's favorite subject: recess.
      This is the time of year when every kid realizes that Eddie Cochran was wrong when he said there ain't no cure for the summertime blues. Going back to school has a way of changing your tune and your use of double negatives.
      Suddenly you go from the barefoot days of summer to straight- laced subtraction and the scientific method. After weeks of vacation - half of which you wasted away with the words "I'm bored" - it is time again to take your assigned seat. Hopefully you won't find petrified nose goblins lurking under the desk.
      Admittedly, I don't recall my first day of kindergarten. I'm sure a few tears were shed - although it might have been streams of joy running down my parents' faces. Aside from sitting still, kindergarten brought other challenges for a five-year-old. Coloring inside the lines, raising your hand before going to the bathroom and not the other way around; thank goodness for shag carpet squares and naptime.
      Kindergarten did teach me one life-long lesson: Play-Doh is not a building block of the food pyramid. It's not even considered a lipid.
      With each passing school year, preparing for the first day of class meant a shopping excursion. Modeling "husky boys" Toughskins jeans for your mother and the Sears sales lady; those psychological scars don't scab over. However, the real ego death blow was picking out Fruit of the Loom whitey-tighty multi-packs.
      Thank goodness for school supplies. Each year I would pick out a plethora of pencils, pens and big pink erasers. All of which were lost in the quantum physics worm hole lurking inside my locker. This tear in the universe also swallowed brown bag lunches containing pickled pimiento loaf sandwiches.
      Each new year of elementary school brought subtle changes in classrooms, bus routes and colors in the cafeteria hotdogs.
      Then came the shock to the senses known as junior high. Lunchboxes were out and the opposite sex in. Interestingly, while academic responsibilities grew, locker sizes shrank. Unfortunately, the average seventh-grader could still be stuffed between his winter jacket and his geography text book.
      First day of high school meant football practice, a ride to school that wasn't bright yellow and 1980s cool parachute pants - purchased without the approval of mom or the Sears lady. It also meant one day closer to graduation and the 'real world' that frowned on pants with multiple zippers.
      As part of my job, I look forward to going back to school - probably because it doesn't involve math homework. While the classroom chairs seem smaller, my memories stay the same. Case in point, when a teacher calls me Mr. Leiva, like a swallow to Capistrano, I instinctively head for the principal's office.
      Of course, six years from now I'll be going back to school for another reason. I'm sure that both kinds of tears will be shed on Ella's first day of kindergarten. Hopefully she'll remember to raise her hand first, lay off the Play-Doh and make lasting memories.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com