I loved elementary school. I loved the smell of crayons, the soft lined penmanship paper, the sound of the pencil sharpener. I saw my first-grade teacher a few years ago, and I thought I would weep with happiness. Seeing her brought back all of my memories of school, and all of them were happy.
Which is probably why, when I run across old children's books, especially old school books, I am helpless to resist. I brought some home from a sale last week. The illustration above is from "See My Toys." Every picture is as cute as this one.
This is from a 1939 book, "Happy Days." Look at that symmetry, the diving swallows, the Scotty dogs. I could gaze at it all day.
There's a lot to love in "The Little Red House," too, including that smart little maternity outfit. Most of the babies in the books I remember just kind of appeared out of nowhere.
Even the math books were beautifully illustrated.
Just a stack of old books, their covers a little worse for wear. Within them there exists a magical world where the colors are always bright, the words are always simple, and the children are always smiling.