Remembering scents of chalk and chewing gum and the grind of #2 Ticonderogas, the deep, almost-noon odors of snap beans and cornbread and long-boiled macaroni coming from the lunchroom, mingled with the rubber-crumb coffee-ground stuff they sprinkled down to sweep the floors, and the nearer waxy-sweet smell of Crayolas, on February mornings of Ago. And when the teacher passed around the vinegary, iodiney flaps of white paper with their purplish-outlined images---Heaven. There were ALWAYS sheets to commemorate the PRESIDENTS on their birthdays, and the only two that we recognized in that way were Washington and Lincoln.
February 12 was always a BIG ax, with a rail fence, or perhaps a large top-hat, and then on the 22nd, we were handed round the sometimes-still-warm-from-the-mimeograph sheets displaying a little hatchet and a stem of cherries.
Sometimes there was a flag on each, and always their names, spelled out in outlined letters, so we could color them in, as well.
Lincolns went up on the wall above the blackboards until they were replaced by the , and those fluttered merrily til Easter baskets. Or maybe Kites. Washingtons