I have nothing but praise for the public school system in which I was educated. I received pretty satisfactory instruction without having to wear a uniform or sleep away from the comforts of my own home. Everyone in the New Canaan public school system ended up dressing and acting like we went to prep school, but I think we all appreciated that we were given the option not to.
Nonetheless, to this day there is one aspect of my early education that intrigues me to this day. My elementary school had a rather peculiar love of whales and whaling. That sentence in and of itself should strike you as odd. How can one have a great passion and love for a particular thing while at the same time have a seemingly equal passion and love for the violent destruction of said thing? I don’t know, but that was the environment in which I received my early education.
Everybody loved whales, despite the fact that they’re not necessarily very cute, cuddly, or otherwise endearing. My school’s mascot was Westy the Whale, complete with a smile and a blowhole that shot forth with great school spirit a spout of water in the shape of a W. Two of my siblings and many of my schoolmates wanted to be oceanographers so that they could spend every day swimming with whales. Such was the love for the ocean’s gentle giant.
But at the same time if you went back in history, the only contact most Connecticut residents had with whales was the contact of a harpoon into thick blubber. Consequently, we learned a great deal about the process of whaling which is why today I still know that the period of time where the whale pulls a boat along after it is harpooned until it finally exhausts itself and dies is called the Nantucket Sleigh-Ride. That is disconcerting considering the fact that I’m not sure that if I was quizzed I would be 100% accurate on my state capitals. Heck, I’m not even sure if that’s the right spelling of capitals.
The highlight of the experience being a full day taken out of the school year in fourth or fifth grade where we simulated the whaling experience. Each homeroom class grouped together into their own “boat” in our auditorium and spent the day hunting and harpooning imaginary whales. What bothered me most back then was that we were hunting and killing our own school mascot. That’s just weird and wrong. However, what really bothers me looking back is the one major indictment of the Connecticut public school system. I’m not kidding about this. We were encouraged to bring packs of cards and other means of self-entertainment to school that day because one of the aspects of whaling that we simulated were the long, boring hours at sea. I mean, wow.
I look back on my elementary school years with a great deal of affection. Affection, because they make me feel like all things considered I turned out alright.