by Jarret Liotta


WESTPORT — As someone who was soundly revulsed by public school — primarily after the primary years — my undying attachment to my primary alma mater — Coleytown Elementary School — ironically remains in steadfast affection.

Working diligently on a rather challenging sudoku puzzle this afternoon, the pungent scent of my newly sharpened pencil shot me vividly back to those halcyon days — sturdy crank pencil sharpeners and small wooden chairs, old round clocks with second hands that moved in slow motion set high upon dull green walls beneath inviting rows of magical skylight windows displaying far-off white clouds and blue skies, and the best cafeteria food in the whole world — meatball grinders, mashed potatoes and hamburgers that rivaled the ones at Chubby Lane’s.

The Wisdom of the Walkers

So many great memories …

For one thing, I was a walker — something nearly nonexistent today — and I lived at the very top of Charcoal Hill Road … So I literally walked a full mile home uphill in the snow! I mean, how many people can honestly make that claim?!

Who knew then what a gift it was to have silent frozen mornings of unique solitude trudging that eternal distance down to Coleytown El. I learned to love walking like few others could, and I’ll never lose my deep affection for cold weather as a result.

A welcoming destination — coupled with a slightly deranged dysfunctional home — made that pink brick school always feel like the safest of places. I remember my first exposure to the strange pecking order of older kids while working in the sandbox in 1st grade with my best friend, Debbie Gilbertie, and how it only left us laughing to be lectured by those 2nd graders we coyly labeled Big Shot and Little Shot, given their bossiness and relative size …

Humble Brilliant Trappings & Times

The following year in 2nd grade, out on the playground playing “Monsters” with Peeb, Sid and other friends, our fertile imaginations combined with just rocks, shrubs and ideas to create an amazing world we were swept up in every recess … The discovery in 3rd grade that the tiny library south of the art room had several books on UFOs, not to mention some excellent ones on dinosaurs, was equally magical. Fiction discoveries included A Bear Called Paddington, A Cricket in Times Square, and all volumes of Encyclopedia Brown … The utter magic of my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Quinn, reading us aloud Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was breathtaking!

I’ll never forget square dancing in Mrs. Marcus’s gym class in 5th grade, where my virulent crush on Theresa Goldrick left me woozy on the possibility that we might end up holding sweaty hands during one of the promenades … Back in class, I remember the amazing films Mr. D. showed us on the 16-millimeter projector — among them the “Tennessee Bird Walk,” “The Red Balloon,” and that one where the kid puts the carved wooden statue of the guy riding in a canoe into a stream in his yard and it subsequently travels around the world …

Seeing Scarlett, Rushmore, Etc.

Of course, not all the memories were as grand. I remember the time my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Bowman, asked us what we each wanted to be when we grew up. I stated, “I want to be an actor.” After we lined up to go to art class, she approached me with a smiling face and asked, “Do you really want to be an actor?” and I responded, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” Despite my obvious wit, she screamed at me like a banshee.

I remember in 1st grade being lined up with more than 100 kids for our group measles injections — one of my first days at CES. Under the solemn visage of the enormous Stevan Dohanos’ mural of the kid on the horse overlooking Mt. Rushmore that still overlooks the office, dozens and dozens of bawling kids were herded into the nurse’s office like army inductees for one of the more traumatic shots of our lives … Welcome to public school!

I remember vomiting near that same spot in the middle of the hallway in first grade. I stood there dumbly for a long moment after it happened, not quite sure what to do next, but ultimately I found gratitude for — and related guilt toward — Herb the Janitor, (one of the wonderful, welcoming fixtures of my experience there), who had to clean it up …

Fueling The Fear

That all said, I’m so sorry the world has gotten so weird that some members of the Zoning Board of Appeals are frightened out of their wits because they fear that terrible things could happen at CES. It’s sad that some people are so paranoid and steep in fear; it’s a crappy way to wade through life, regardless of where it’s founded!

I wouldn’t waste time trying to convince anyone that their own thoughts and outlooks may, on some level, invite fear, because then they’ll probably get angry as well as fearful, and that just sucks for everyone in their orbit.

I’m just glad, despite the vomit and shots, that I saw a time before so many, many things changed … It’s mine to keep, and whatever the future holds for CES, it’ll always be home to me!

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