Living across the street from the elementary school had its perks—and its pitfalls. In the summertime, with no teachers or students around, the school became our personal playground. The outdoor passages were perfect for racing, each classroom opening to a covered walkway in the front and a grassy area in the back. The school’s layout formed a square figure-eight, with a wide entrance leading to the office at the center. We’d roller-skate around the loops, sprint down the long corridors, or play tag—though the best part wasn’t just the running, but the near misses, the sharp turns, and the occasional full-speed collision.
Beyond the passages, we had the school playground, where we played kickball, tetherball, basketball, and whatever else we could come up with. The school and the park next door shared the playground and a football field, giving us even more space to run wild. At the park ballroom, we could check out equipment—footballs, kickballs, and even board games like checkers and chess.
But living so close to the school had its downsides. Anytime something went wrong—broken windows, tipped-over trash cans, missing sports equipment—I was usually the first suspect. And, more often than not, for good reason.
Would you love to hear more of these childhood misadventures?
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