Grade I was my favorite grade in school. It was my first ladder in school way back in the year 1945. It was the year when the country was freshly liberated from the clutches of the Japanese Imperial Army. I consider myself fortunate because I was exactly aged 7 then in 1945 the resumption of classes after the dreaded Japanese occupation.
Some of my classmates in Grade I were much older than me because the year they were supposed to be in school were closed because of the war.
Grade I was where my senses were first opened. We did rote singing and rote counting in unison. We danced, sang and laughed. We were very noisy Then we do writing. We did it fast with teacher counting. It was meant to improve our writing skills. Teacher supervised well our writing work. She made it sure that we follow correctly how every letters of the alphabet were formed or written We were able to write fast and well because of the good training.
Truly my stint in Grade I in 1945 was made doubly memorable because I was very, very proud and felt superior over my classmates because I can do whatever I like from the teacher. I remember I could let teacher draw a parrot repeatedly in my pad papers. I really derived endless pleasure seeing the parrot drawings teacher made for me.
Teacher never spoil me despite her love and understanding. I remember a time when I did hurt a classmate. With a coco midrib-broom, she castigated me in front of the class, in full view of my classmates.
I sometimes longed for that year 1945 the year with my Grade I classmates, the year when our senses were honed with basic skills for our roles in later life. I especially yearn doubly for the teacher who mothered us during that formative years. But teacher is now gone for she has joined the Lord's caravan of no return 27 years ago.
Indeed she was more than a teacher to me because she happened to be my mother. Mother, I pray do rest in peace with father and sister Ida and with the Lord. Amen.