They say that one of the strongest memory triggers is the sense of smell. That must be true because whenever I smell chalk or yeast rolls, I think of the first day of school.
It was always intimidating, and a little exciting, to enter the doors of that old elementary school building in the 60s. The smell of the oil they used on the floors permeated everything in the morning, but by the end of the school day after much writing of names, schedules and drawing on those old blackboards (do they even have those anymore?) and the duty of taking the erasers outside and clapping them together, which was, by the way, a great honor for a second or third grader, the overriding smell was of chalk.
That’s not to say that there weren’t other smells. There was the smell of alcohol near the first- aid room, the smell of White Shoulders cologne from near the principal’s office, of flowers on some of the teachers’ desks, along with apples placed there at roll call by students who were instructed to deliver these offerings by parents who wanted to make sure that their children got off on the right foot with the new teacher.
After standing, little hands over hearts, for the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for All, we then recited a Bible verse, usually the Lord’s Prayer, and we all knew every word.
Then, came the smell of money. I know you might think that money doesn’t have a smell, but don’t you remember those crumpled dollar bills and quarters and dimes that were clutched tightly in the fists of about 30 little kids, moistened by sweat, and offered to the teacher who wrote down the amount in a ledger as each child walked shyly up to the desk to pay their fees? Yes, that money had a smell.
Then, as midday drew closer, there was the heavenly smell of yeast rolls. Now that is a memory worth savoring… take a minute here…
Everyone I’ve ever mentioned this to, no matter where they went to school, remembers the smell of those yeast rolls. At first it was just a slight change mixing in with the other school smells, new pencils, crayons, new book smells and the scent of brand new, too tight, squeaky leather shoes. But as the morning drew closer to the lunch hour, the smell of those rolls invaded the entire school, down every hall and into every corner of each classroom.
I’m not sure how teachers kept kids on task those last 30 minutes before the lunch bell sounded. The stronger the smell of those rolls got, the more we fidgeted in our seats.
Then the teacher would finally announce that we should line up, wash our hands at the little sinks in the back of each room, and then line up again for the trip through the hall, down the stairs, and under the covered breezeway leading into the lunchroom.
The aroma grew stronger with each shuffling step. Looking back, it is amazing how they could contain that many hungry children in a long, snaking line through the lunchroom and to the counter where there were ladies in hairnets waiting to serve us on green plastic segmented trays.
It seems like the menu for the first day was always the same; yellow niblett corn, green lima beans, roast beef slices covered in steaming gravy, and right on the corner of the tray, in its designated spot, a fresh, warm- from- the- oven yeast roll, gently browned on top and dusted with a hint of flour.
We collected our little pint boxes of milk, placing them in the proper square on the tray and made our way to our tables. Pulling out little plastic green or orange chairs, we seated ourselves, and automatically bowed our heads for the blessing, which was always said before lunch by the principal or one of the teachers. And we knew, even the littlest kindergarteners, not to talk or fidget or sneak a bite of anything on that tray until the blessing was said over our food, and amen-ed by the grownups who were present.
Even now, just writing about this, makes me want to pretend to be someone’s visiting grandmother and sneak into the lunchroom, because I know, without a doubt, that today, in lunchrooms across the country, they are serving yeast rolls. They might very well be Sister Shubert’s Yeast Rolls, but there will be yeast rolls.
Some things about school have changed, not all for the better. Gone are the days of clapping erasers, wearing gingham pinafores, and in some places, saying Grace, but thank God, some things like the comforting smell of yeast rolls, never changes.
