It was to be my very first Valentine’s Day celebration at school. To say that I was giddy with excitement would be an understatement. Somehow I knew it was a very special occasion. Since it was the first time I would celebrate it at school, I can only assume that I had seen Eliz come home for the past two years with a wad of Valentine cards and now at last it would be my turn to experience it.
Earlier in the month, my mom had already taken us to the store where we picked out the box of Valentine’s to be distributed. Miss Brown, my kindergarten teacher, had given us very specific instructions. We were to bring x number of cards, we could sign our name on the cards, but we were not to put anyone’s name on the outside of the envelope.
But how could that be correct?? I must have misunderstand that last directive. It was imperative to select the very best cards for my best friends. Even a kindergartener knew that. I also had to be very careful about which cards went to the boys in my class. They had to be the least gushy ones because heaven forbid they got the wrong idea, especially if it was a boy that I really did like.
The thought of just distributing the cards willy-nilly was too much for my six-year old mind. So I did what any six-year old would do...neglected to tell my mom that one little detail and painstakingly wrote everyone’s name on the little white envelopes that housed each hand selected Valentine.
On the morning of February 14th, 1968, I arrived at my school so excited I could barely contain myself. I couldn’t wait to see how much my friend’s loved their cards. I couldn’t wait to pour though the 30 some odd cards that I would be receiving myself. I couldn’t wait to see what types of home made goodies would be brought to the party.
Earlier the class had made giant envelopes for our Valentines. Made out of pink, red and white construction paper, they had our names and hearts plastered on the outside with lots of glitter adding sparkle and shine. These were hung on the walls of the classroom waiting to be filled with Valentines and candy adding to the festivities.
One by one, each child brought up their stack of Valentines that were to be shared with the class. When Mrs. Brown saw the names on the outside of my envelopes, she immediately scowled in displeasure. I was not anticipating that my defiance would displease her to the extent that it did. Apparently her years of experience taught her that in order to expediently distribute the cards, it worked best for her to be able to throw any old card in any old brightly decorated piece of construction paper, love be damned.
My version of the story is this (it is MY memory after all)....Miss Brown proceeded to do what every grouchy old teacher does when they are unhappy with a student, berate me in front of my classmates for my inability to follow clear instructions. During her tirade, something was said, I don't remember what, that i made me finally understand exactly why she didn't want the recipient names on the envelopes. It was for her convenience. Love be damned.
It was at that moment that I intensely disliked her. I wasn't sure if it was because she embarrassed me in front of the class, took away some of my excitement about the party or did it because she was just too lazy to take a few minutes extra to sort envelopes by name.
Miss Brown, thankfully, retired before the end of the school year. But every Valentine's Day, the memory of that day comes back to me transporting me to a little girl being embarrassed in front of the class all int he name of love.
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