“When Can I Start School?” (October 6, 2006)

Joanie Barovetto Black and Nola (11/13/10)

I was three and a half when we moved to Davis in the summer of 1946. My brother, Mickey, was going to be five in November. The Davis School District’s rule stated you had to be five years old by March 31^st, so Mickey got to start school our first September in town. He was my closest companion and best friend, and he was leaving me behind!

“When can I start school?” I wailed. Mom softly said, “When you are older.”

Fortunately, my parent’s selected a great neighborhood; my new next-door neighbors, the Barovetto family, had two older boys and a girl closer to my age. Joanie, my new neighbor, didn’t turn five until April, so her brothers went off to school and left her behind also. We bonded right away. It was great to have a new playmate and best girl friend.

Throughout that school year, Joanie and I often played school; we talked about how wonderful it would be the next year when we could go to school too, just like our brothers. Having each other made the pain of being left behind much more tolerable.

The summer before school started in 1947, the Davis School District changed its policy on entrance to kindergarten. Instead of being five by the end of March, the new policy stated children had to be five by March first. I was twenty-five days too young to start school with Joannie. I was going to be left behind again

“But, when can I start to school?’’ I wailed. Mother said, “Next year.”  

“Next year? That seems like forever! What can I do this year?

I am sure the school year of 1947 wasn’t an easy one for my mom. I desperately wanted to be in school like the other kids.

 

Fortunately for me, my mother was a homemaker most of the time. She did have a part-time job as a society column writer for the Daily Democrat, the Woodland weekly newspaper. She wrote her columns at home, and she took me along when she went to interview people. I also got to ride along when she delivered her columns to the Democrat office.

Reluctantly, I did learn to play by myself; but, being a very active and social kid, I kept bugging my mom with, “How long before the kids get home from school?”

Mom and I had a lot of tea parties. She played Old Maid and other games with me, but she wasn’t much for playing dress-up or dolls. After all, she had housework as well as newspaper work to do. I jumped rope, played jacks and roller-skated in the kitchen.

I would sit down long enough to color a picture or thumb through my picture books, but I loved to be outside. I spent many hours on my swing in the backyard. My dad made it for me out of a small wooden board. He made two holes on each side of the board and strung very strong rope through the holes and tied it to our big hack-berry tree. I flew through the air with the greatest of ease on that swing.

No matter how many activities I enjoyed, I’m very sure my mom got sick of hearing, “When did you say I get to go to school?” When September of 1948 finally arrived, my mom was delighted to say, “Nola, the time has finally arrived; you get to go to school today!” “Hooray!” I said, as I grabbed my brother’s hand and headed out the door for the beginning of a wonderful new adventure.