Marcus Whitman Elementary - Richland, WA
I was driving down a very familiar street and glanced over to see the rubble of my old elementary school. I instantly pulled over to see the wreckage for myself.
Could it be? My old childhood school crashed to the ground? Yup. There it was - piles of memories.
It was here that my 3rd grade teacher tried to teach me to ride a bike. It was here that I made friends and played kick-ball and had the first 'crush' of my life. It was here that I made my very first piece of clay art for my mom. It was here that I learned how to play tetherball and Chinese jump rope. It was here that I learned to do the moon walk and break dance. It was here I took calligraphy after school and learned to write beautifully. It was here that I ate my mom's homemade lunches on homemade bread. It was here I had school pictures and wrote pieces for the Young Author's contest. It was here that I passed a few 'love notes' in class and blushed because the cute boy wrote back. It was here, I learned to sing Skip to My Lou and Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree. It was here, I played the ladybug from "James and the Giant Peach" in the class play because I had a polka dot shirt. It was here I wore an eye patch and learned how to be happy even though I looked different. It was here that I met my brother, Travis, after school so we could walk home together. It was here that I was chased by boys. It was here that I made some of my dearest friends. It was here that I spent a great deal of my childhood.
As I stood on the school grounds, I remembered a lot. It was a great trip down memory lane. I was happy to see they left the big oak trees and I gathered a few acorns to take home.
It was here that the big trees reminded me that we all have roots.
I am thankful for the years I had at Marcus Whitman Elementary and for the roots it gave me.
A new school will be built here. A new Marcus Whitman Elementary. It will provide roots for children in the future.
I am grateful for the 'old school' that was mine.