Remembering simpler times.
Like many of my generation and those before me, I was lucky to be raised a free range kid. By the age of six, along with my brother Pablo who was four at the time, we roamed the river of our hometown during summertime—from dawn to dusk, in a huge wooden rowboat. With nothing but a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese, we managed to make a day of it, until our father would somehow find us and tow us back. At the time, we hoped and prayed that if we were good and well behaved, God would let us be pirates when we grew up.
Eventually, we grew up, studied, and while my brother became a painter and I a writer— not the original plan—we always talked about those days on the river, and never forgot them. Yes we smoked the occasional cigarette, a cigar butt if we could find one—though it made us puke. We also managed to climb every tree in our neighborhood, played chase, marbles, soccer, made kites indoors, flew them outdoors, went fishing every chance we got, and during school days, ran the twelve blocks to class every morning, and back again at the end of the day, ringing every doorbell along the way.
With the rest of my friends, it was no different. That I can recall, nobody ever got seriously hurt, missed a day of class, took pills of any kind, or worse yet, died of boredom, a complaint I often hear from kids today. Of the twenty-nine kids in my third grade class, twenty-eight graduated high school in the same school. I was the only one missing, having moved during eighth grade. At the time, classes were given in French, with English, Spanish and Latin, required languages. We learned our multiplication tables in third grade, and had calligraphy every day until grade six. By then, we could all read, write and do ‘rithmetic, and do it all standing on our heads. All in all, lots to be thankful for, and God not granting every little wish, high on the list.
Over the years, my hometown has changed, but education hasn’t changed much, with my friends reporting that kids there are still looking for the most elusive thing in fourth grade, then as well as now: the lowest common denominator. Yes it’s good to modernize, and some things can be “new and improved,” but maybe education, or even the way kids play, is not one of them.
They were simpler times then, times when if you wanted a distraction, you didn’t click one on, you had to create one. I’m referring to the time before the word “dropout” was coined, or “ADD/ADHD” became popular. A time when parents remained involved, teachers ruled, kids were expected to study, entertain themselves, and nobody spent millions in federal funds to figure out homework didn’t work. Lots was demanded of us, much more was expected, and at the end of it, we got one hell of an education.
Denton Record Chronicle: https://www.dentonrc.com/opinion/columnists/manuel-taboada-remembering-simpler-times/article_a19244f8-dece-56e2-ae84-f45ee96f6226.html