The Valentine Box

At the end of the block where I grew up as a kid, there was an old two-story wooden schoolhouse. When it was built at the turn of the century, it held all grades, but by the time I was going to school it had become the Junior High School. We kids in the neighborhood loved going over there after school hours and in the summer… to play under the cover of the play shed on rainy days, and to climb up the two-story fire escape slide and slide back down on a piece of waxed paper. We didn’t let our Mom and Dad know about that part. My sixth-grade homeroom was at the head of the wide central stairs and when the bell rang and it was time to change classrooms, the thundering herd of kids could make the double sash windows rattle and the building shake. I started thinking about this because of Valentine’s Day.

I don’t know why I happened to remember this particular Valentine’s Day in the sixth grade. Who can explain why some inconsequential memories stand out and others fade to non-existence. Maybe I helped to decorate the Valentine Box, a cardboard box covered with butcher paper and decorated with red construction paper hearts and lacy paper doilies. At the top of the box was a slit to drop valentines for our classmates into. The box probably sat on the teacher’s desk for a week before Valentine’s Day, collecting all of our cards. At home, I laid out the Valentines that had come in a package from the store, studying each one. Some were big, some were small. Each was different and had different sentiments. Which ones should I give to my best friends, and to the boy that I secretly had a crush on? Which ones should go to my least favorite classmates? Such decisions seemed to hold so much importance back then. Using my best penmanship, I addressed the envelopes, or wrote on the back of the cards, To… and From…

At the end of the school day on Valentine’s Day, we put our books, pencils and papers away and got ready for the party. The Classroom Mom arrived and handed out paper cups and napkins for the Kool-Aid and heart shaped cookies. Then the teacher opened the Valentine Box and began delivering the Valentines, carefully checking who it was addressed to and placing it on our desk. Unfortunately it was a popularity barometer. The Valentines piled up on the desks of the popular girls and boys; others received only a few cards. Their long faces told the story. By the time my own sons were going to school, Valentine’s Day had become more egalitarian… they had to bring a Valentine card for every classmate. No one was left out. Of course the teachers always got the biggest and fanciest cards… sometimes a little box of candy.

The old Junior High is no longer there. New, modern school offices and classrooms have replaced it. The play shed is gone too. I guess kids don’t need shelter from the rain anymore… or maybe they don’t play outside. I’m not sure if Valentine parties are held in classrooms these days. Like Halloween, Valentine’s Day has become a big consumer event for adults. I wonder how much a dozen red roses will cost this year? Valentine cards have changed too. Believe it or not, I sent out E-Cards. But I sent the same one to everyone… no playing favorites. I love you all.

... P. L. Morningstar