I took a break earlier this week and took my son to a local city park to play with some friends. I moved to a small town. The city where this city park is located makes our small town seem big by comparison. It's called Riverside and it's a beautiful place. Of course, during the morning we went to the park, it was a glorious day.
My son and I waited for others to show up. I noticed a monument. I like monuments, especially when I'm waiting for others to show up. The monument was built so that others...like me...would know that at one time there stood a school, a brick-and-mortar building that--according to the plaque--was a special place, a place that provided learning for those attending and memories for past students.
Those are the best buildings.
I guess the only thing remaining of the school is a bell, a bell once housed in a belfry, a bell that signaled to students, teachers, and parents of the school's schedule. The bell's seen better days. No doubt the bell will never again be used for the purpose for which it was created. It's retired from that job. But, not retired from work. The bell's new job is that of a symbol, a way to remember something valued by the community.
Unfortunately, I cannot travel back in time to see the building or hear the bell's ring. I can, however, remember my first years of public schooling. I attended a school that had an expansion built to the original structure. The "new" portion of the school was built in the 1920s. I went to that school for three years before a new brick-and-mortar school was built and the old school torn down. I can relate to the feelings forever etched into the plague at the Riverside park.
Though we didn't have a bell at Farmington Elementary, a bell that can now be put on display, the long-gone school still generates memories.
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