I am a baby Bruin at heart, even though I was officially one for only a single year. I went to Burke Elementary for first grade, the center of our then-small town. I only spent one year there because the boundaries kept shifting as they built a new elementary school. We were the baby Bruins because we were all destined for Lake Braddock Secondary in seventh grade, where we would be full Bruins for the following six years. We had field days and weekend fairs complete with a dunking booth, cotton candy, and a book fair. Our hallways were lined with black and white linoleum patterned with sunlight streaming through the windows, down which teachers’ heels smartly clicked. Our classrooms were safe havens with solid wooden doors and cloakrooms that smelled like lunch boxes and raincoats.
Mrs. Singleton was our principal, a perpetually smiling silver-headed lady who drove a pea-green VW bus. She would cruise around town, picking up potential truants and those who missed the bus.
I was devastated when they moved us to a trailer at a different school for second grade, a holding pen for when our new school was ready. My sister, being a sixth grader, got to stay at Burke School to finish out her elementary years. At the beginning of third grade, they moved us to a trailer yet again on the grounds of our new school. As soon as our wing was done, we moved into our new classroom. This place had freshly painted walls, semi-open classrooms (no doors), brand new carpet, a pit for storytime in the middle of the “pod,” which was a hub for all the classrooms in that area, and a wet area for art classes. I guess it was state-of-the-art for those days, but I never really got over having to leave Burke School and its wooden doors, cloakrooms, and echoing linoleum.
My Corner of the Village 