One Last Time?

The last time I walked out the doors of Century Public School, I told myself that it would be for the last time. I even told you the same thing in a blog post, more than five years ago.

And then I was back in my kindergarten classroom, checking in for my second booster shot of the COVID-19 vaccine. I now have a blend of three vaccines: AZ, Pfizer, and now, Moderna. It's a cocktail of protection.

I entered through the same door that would lead me to the kindergarten class. The tiny desks were stacked in the area where we used to hang up our jackets and stow our outdoor shoes. Larger tables were spread out in the classroom, with plexiglass barriers and volunteers waiting to help me.

My kindergarten classroom, from five years ago.

"This was my kindergarten classroom," I told the person who scanned my health card. Even his neighbouring volunteer heard and took notice. "Although," I added, "it seems that they've lowered the ceiling since I was a young student here."

Once checked in, I was directed to turn right and go to the end of the hall, where I would be further directed by another volunteer.

"Am I heading to the gymnasium?" I asked.

"I guess you know your way around," the registration volunteer said. "Yes. Enjoy your trip down memory lane."

The hallway for the kindergarten classrooms ended at an intersection that either took you straight, to the principal's office; right, to the main entrance; or left, to the gym. Both doors were wide open and I could feel the air circulating. I correctly surmised that the emergency exit doors, inside the gym, were open, too.

There was no waiting, I was directed at the entrance to a vacant table where a nurse was ready to administer her next shot. The chair in which I was seated faced toward the stage—its curtains drawn open and with a few people seated at desks close to the edge. I felt like I was at an assembly, though the stage itself seemed smaller, even though I only saw it five years earlier.

The gymnasium, from five years ago.

As I felt the jab of the needle, I looked at the stage and remembered jumping off it, at the end of rehearsal for a class play, and having sprained my ankle. That accident marked the first time I had ever needed crutches.

I also had to sit out of the performance.

After the jab and rest period, I left the gymnasium and was directed to turn left and go down the hall to a station where I would check out.

The woman who checked me out was in a chatty mood, so I mentioned that we were in my old elementary school. "I bet it's been a while since you were here," she said. "Does it bring back memories?"

"It does," I admitted, "but I was here a few years ago, just before the school shut its doors. I contacted the principal and he allowed me to wander the halls and take some photos. It was nice to head upstairs and see some classrooms and visit the library, where I had spent a lot of time. So many memories."

"There's an upstairs?" she exclaimed. "I didn't know that."

Her station was set up next to a vestibule that led out to the back of the school. In the vestibule was a set of stairs, heading upward. "Those stairs go somewhere," I told her. We laughed.

Stairs leading up to the library and more classrooms.

"Well, then, you just head past those stairs and make your way out," she said, still chuckling. "Have a good evening."

"You too," I replied, adding, "thanks for taking the time to help the community."

I walked out of Century Public School, perhaps for the last time. Five years ago, I thought I would never have a reason to return, but when I registered to have my vaccine booster and my old school came up as a site option, I jumped at the chance to go in one more time.

This was the place where I had received one of my very first vaccine shots. Indeed, as I walked down the hall from the gymnasium to where I was to check out, I passed by the nurse's station, which was a small room to my right. The door was open and the room was mostly vacant, save for a chair. But I could almost envision a small bed for a little person to rest, a desk for the nurse, and a small chair that I would have sat on to get a shot against polio, or chicken pox, or other required vaccines at the time.

In a way, I had come full circle. Here I was, again, getting a vaccine in the place where my education began. Not in the same room but in an institution that gave me so many memories that I carry with me.

Will I step inside again? Who knows? But this recent visit has taught me one thing:

Never say "for the last time."