Grandparents' Day

My first Grandparents' Day at pre-school. A communal breakfast in the small social hall followed by high-schoolers leading us to the proper classes. I must say it's a little scary seeing all those people my age and realizing I've reached that stage in life. Tempus Fugit, as they say. We sat in the back of the class and watched the 3 and 4 year olds listen to a story and answer questions about Shabbat (it being Friday and all), then sing songs about Shabbat, then do an art project about Shabbat, then we took pictures as they all participated in...Shabbat rituals. Notice a theme?

My mind wandered back to a different era. I was a 3rd grader (~1959) at Fallstaff (public) school and it was Parents' Day. My father was working and couldn't attend. My mother taught on the other side of the city and didn't drive. Dad's drug store was close to the school where Mom taught, so he dropped her off in the mornings and picked her up later in the day. It was, therefore, up to my grandmother who lived with us to come to class that day to report on how Mrs. Dix was treating her grandson. I don't remember much about it. Just another day in the life of an 8 year old. Of course, there was a big row in our house that night-my mother very angry at her mother. Why? Following dismissal, after careful observation of my class, my bubbie approached poor Mrs. Dix (clearly not an MOT) and accused her of being an anti-Semite. The reason: She hadn't called on me enough during the day, thereby not adequately showcasing my superior intellect to the assembled parents. My mother pointed out to her that (Baltimore then being the ghettoized town that it was), EVERY other child in my class was also Jewish. That took some of the wind out of Bubbie's sails, but I think she remained unconvinced.

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