By Kathryn Black, ’11, The Lens Editor
The best thing about being a lifer at CCDS isn’t the recognition at graduation. Sure, that’s great; but I value my 15 years at CCDS most because of my experiences with classmates and teachers. Who could forget that year when Alex Hong traipsed the halls of CCDS with the same braid beads in his huge mop of black hair for six months—six months we suspected it went entirely without washing? How could we forget that small island of tangled wood—widely rumored to be dark and dangerous—separating the big kids’ rainbow playground from that of Pre-K and Montessori? It is these reminiscences, and others I intend to share with you, that make my many years at CCDS rich and meaningful.
In third grade, I had an amazing teacher. Mrs. Miller is an incredibly kind and gifted teacher. She is also rather short and small. One day she announced we had earned an extra recess. I, unusually tall for my age, was so overcome with joy at this announcement that I picked her up, two feet clear off the floor, in a bear hug of thanks. She was so surprised by this unusual expression of enthusiasm that she exclaimed, “Don’t you dare pick me up!” Although reprimanded, I knew despite the scolding that Mrs. Miller was an extraordinary teacher whose qualities were not to be found in a third-grade teacher anywhere else. Mrs. Miller is one of the reasons why I like being a lifer.
Another reason is the sense of unity at CCDS. The school is so small that almost everybody knows everybody. Where else can you shake hands with the head of school every morning? It is a community where everyone feels as if they have a voice. If a student has a problem with how things are done or a decision made in the development of the school, that student is encouraged to voice his or her opinion. CCDS is a secure and open community of equals of which I am proud to have been a part for so many years.
Grant Hesser, ’11, is a memorable character, and it is not surprising that he stars in most of my memories as a CCDS lifer. Grant has not changed. What made him a larger-than-life character when he was five years old remains part of Grant to this day. Consult science all you want, but I believe Grant may actually have grown in reverse—at least in stubbornness, that is.
I have a bone to pick with him. Grant and I disagree about what transpired on a typical afternoon in the year 2000. The setting was Mr. Marin’s second-grade class. We were all excited because we had just received our first pair of grown-up scissors. Everyone was busy cutting awkward shapes. I was minding my own business, chipping along and talking to a three-foot-tall Baldur Tangvald, ’11, when Grant suddenly yelled in pain. As he told me later, he had just turned to belittle me with the Hesser trademark sarcasm for what he considered were stupid comments of mine in my conversation with Baldur when he cut his own lip with his scissors. While I had nothing to do with his self-inflicted wound other than to provide a target for his insults, Grant claims to this day that I “pushed his arm,” causing him to cut his own lip. Lies!
Grant has a questionable track record in this area. In kindergarten the same Grant Hesser was involved in a sketchy and, yes, bloody event that was shockingly similar. A new kid from Wales had recently started attending CCDS and, in a display of remarkably poor judgment, became friends with Grant. Halfway through the year, the unsuspecting boy was practicing leaning on the back two legs of his chair, a trick taught to him by Grant, when he leaned too far back and hit his head on a bookshelf. Now there was a second pool of blood. The nurse was called, and the boy was never seen again. Another Hesser triumph!
Grant Hesser does not stand alone in my mind as a CCDS living legend. Alex Hong also deserves legendary status. Referred to as the “Hong Boy” or just simply “The Hong,” Alex no longer attends CCDS, but his memory lives on in the class of 2011. Put simply, Alex was a big boy—a tank of a youngster. In second grade, he tried to follow tiny Greg Dick, ’11, as he slid through the narrow space between the back and the seat of school chairs. In a huff, Alex declared that he could do whatever Greg could do and do it better. He quickly got stuck. A handyman had to be called to dismantle the plastic-and-steel chair in order to free Alex, who throughout his incarceration had an attack either of panic or of giggles.
The lifelong friends and unforgettable stories that come to those of us who are CCDS lifers are cherished. You see your friends’ embarrassing moments, and they see yours. I wouldn’t trade my experience as a CCDS lifer for anything.
Photo courtesy of Kathryn Black.