I sat in the back of Varmint’s class, watching her teacher work with a Promethean board instead of a chalk board.
And I wondered if any of these kids had ever known the joy of being picked to clean the teacher’s chalkboard erasers…beating them as fast and furiously as you could to make the biggest cloud of chalk EVER.
And then I doubted that any of these kids had ever known the thrill of sniffing a freshly mimeographed page, warm, still from the turning drum of the ditto machine.
And I pitied these kids because they would never know these simple joys and so many others like them.
And then it occurred to me that my grandparents and parents probably felt the same way about change like that. Like my generation never knew the joy of being the first person to arrive at school and hence be the one to get to stoke the fire in the pot-bellied stove.
Or strapping your schoolbooks together with a belt and carrying them over your shoulder that way.
Or carrying your lunch…probably a leftover breakfast biscuit wrapped in a flour sack cloth…in an old tin pail.
And I looked back up at the Promethean Board, and missed my old Wonder Woman lunchbox.
….and they call it progress. Hhhhrumph.