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Speak, Minotaur!

K-3 Good Hands
Once, in college, I had the opportunity to return to my K-3 school. I was back in town on break, and my friend Bill and I went for a walk one day. We ended up at the school, which, somewhat to our surprise, had been closed down to make way for housing. The demolition hadn't begun yet, but the building was fenced off. Bill and I walked around the back of the building and of course found a door broken open. We slipped inside to explore.

We had come in past the sandbox, through the back door of the 1st grade room. The room was piled high with chairs, and I don't mean stacked. It was like a mountain of metal and wood bars, bristling with little round metal foot-pads. One adult-sized chair had been impaled into the wall about seven feet up, and a big splotch of black paint was just below that, dripping long tendrils of black towards the floor. We picked our way around the treacherous mound of chairs and out into the hall.

The hall was dark and scattered with debris. We walked down to the 3rd grade room and went in. This room also had a mountain in it -- this time of books. It was more like a sea, actually, soft waves of hardbacks, about four feet deep, undulating to all four walls. In one corner, somebody had actually built a fort out of books.

We continued on to a few other rooms, not finding much else of interest. In one room I found a toy I used to play with as a student here: a grid of nails in a square of wood. My friend Dave and I would string rubber bands around the nails to make finger mazes, which we'd attempt with our eyes closed. I'd forgotten completely about this until just then. I took it home as a souvenir for Dave.

Chez Zeus: Speak, Minotaur!: Station No. 13

Last modified: Thu Mar 31 16:14:13 2005
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