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Facebook national memory master8/21/2023 ![]() Cummins in Grade 8, two very different personalities. One of the things I recall vividly was the routine of lining up, the expectation that we would organize ourselves into that appropriate straight line in the playground and wait in silence for the call to enter the school building. This was my first indication that I was a poor follower of rules. I would look up at the fire escape and think how cool it would be to slide down it during fire drill. We had had a similar one at King George, given that Stuart Scott was the sister school in design to both King George and Alexander Muir. Given the years of attending school with the same ‘crowd’, my classmates were friends and that brought a sense of belonging that I craved. She was to remain a defining figure in my life from that year forward. Ms Evelyn Denne, who lived just down the street on Queen Street, who was a friend of my mother, had regaled me that summer with stories of Grade 7 and the excitement inherent in this next level of my educational journey. For some this may bring a sense of warmth, excitement and variety of new possibilities, while for others it brought a sinking feeling of gloom and dread.īecause Newmarket was a small community back then, I had virtually the same classmates stretching back to kindergarten and so I remember feeling a sense of security, a feeling of continuity. Oh, there was likely some trepidation, of course, but I do not remember any significant degree of foreboding. In hindsight, I remember the usual highs and lows that accompanied returning to school in the 1960s. With the beginning of September 1966, I would find myself preparing for my move from King George school, my educational home since I had started kindergarten in 1959 over to the big school on Lorne Avenue near the park. Whether you are five or 65, the start of September is almost certainly associated, through distant memories, with the return to school. It is not always a happy trip as there have been bumps but a trip well taken. I have discovered that the best way to write about my childhood memories is to close my eyes and travel back freely. I hope that some of my memories spark in you the same longing for a simpler time when we viewed our lives with a mixture of both excitement and trepidation. As I prepare for the 100th anniversary of my alma mater, Stuart Scott School on June 10, I have noticed that more and more I am reflecting on my school days, my memories of life as an 11 and 12-year-old.
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