Chilly mornings, golden warm days, the smell of earthy decay: such is September , one of my favourite months. A time of new beginnings; shiny new shoes and smart crisp uniforms. Pencil cases and notebooks pristine. A time of excitement and apprehension rolled into one.
So many Septembers have floated by now. My own school days, my children’s and my teaching career. All memorable times with sensory overload . The smell of leather from the sometimes ill fitting shoes, blisters and sticking plasters. Aromas of wood shavings as we sat at the kitchen table sharpening pencils to fill brand new cases. Laying out uniforms the night before the first day at school. Setting off early to walk along the lanes so that we wouldn’t be late. Little hands clutching big; not always wanting to let go.
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| First days at school many years ago. |
As for my teaching days, always a sense of excitement at the thought of a new class. Fresh topics to plan, wall displays to design. A time to get the creative juices working. Watching eager children entering a classroom bursting with news from their summer, excited to see friends again.
Memories of my very first school days spent in a tiny dame school, in the middle of the Yorkshire town of Howden. The Miss Blackburn’s ran the school in their large Georgian town house. Younger children in the downstairs rooms, older ones upstairs. Probably no more than fifty children in all. On fine days we would do games or PT as it was known on their immaculate lawn. Inside I remember walking past a large harp at the bottom of the stairs. Learning to read beside a large fire. Such happy memories. I stayed there until I was seven when they finally retired and went to the primary school a few miles away. Certainly a wonderful start to my school days.
So now excitement still as September arrives. A change in pace with slightly cooler weather. Somehow a more energised feel as shorter days loom. The pleasure of long walks in the country lanes watching the trees change colour and the leaves twirl to the ground. Gazing at barley fields being harvested as swallows swoop low, to stoke up on insects before the long journey south.
Are you a September person or do you mourn the passing of summer? Any exciting plans as the new season arrives?
Barbara xxx
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