I have just begun reading bird by bird by Anne Lamott. and it's about writing.
to start writing, write about everything, grade school, birthdays etc etc...
so i am taking the cue from there
and my first bits
Class 1, first day in school. my sister and cousin admit me and take me to class. Mrs Pilackal is the teacher. A stern old lady whose perfectly spun bun rivalled only that of Mrs Pereira (maths teacher for the older classes).
Mrs Pilackal was my first taste of how scary teachers could be. Yet I don't remember being particularly distraught at school. That would come later, with my first exposure to teachers who were cruel -- that story for another day.
One other memory from that class -- which opened out to a long veranda, with wire mesh, which looked out to the street behind the school -- is how my friends and i would play the piano on the desk. we would do it tirelessly, day after day. why? beats me. but it probably is the reason i have wobbly knuckles.
That's where I made my first friendship -- which lasted many many years... we are in touch, but not quite friends.
Grade 1 is also when I realised that uniforms desperately fail the very reason they are imposed. It is meant to ensure that everyone looks and feels the same. No Levi's for one, and Lulu for another.
But what uniforms do is show up how the same piece of fabric can look smart on one, dishevelled on another, glamorous on yet another, and downright crazy on someone else.
Take the cue: what do you remember about your Grade 1. write it down. here. on your blog. on a piece of paper...
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