An impressive run comes to an end this week.

For the better part of two decades, with a short break in the middle there somewhere, I have been driving or walking (more driving lately) young family members to an amazing elementary school.

Some 20 years ago, I walked into the classroom with my son for the first time in his new digs. I even got to stay for 15 or so minutes while he figured it all out.

All this time later, his little brother has wrapped up his elementary career and starts Grade 8 this week.

First, where the heck does the time go?

And second, I drove past the school last week and let the memories sweep over me. It got me to thinking. I recalled so much about their school times and how much they meant to me.

I almost wandered over to the sand jump pit for one last triple jump, then my brain reminded me everything doesnsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t quite work so good anymore.

But it got me to thinking. And by it got me, I mean right in this moment.

What did I remember most about my own school days?

So Isa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™ve  decided to try a fun exercise.

A stream of consciousness, working mostly in chronological order, typing out whatever immediately pops into my head.

No real time to ponder, just the quick thoughts. If I slipped into deep thought mode, I could fill a dozen columns.

If yousa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™d like to play along, start thinking about your own memories since Isa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™m going to ask you to share them when Isa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™m done.

I wonsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t mention the names of any particular schools or teachers, in case they decide to swing by and punish me retroactively.

I have only one memory of pre-school, a dog named Muggins that I once watched peeing on the shoes in the cloakroom.

OK, wesa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™re off to a poignant start.

Strangely, I remember absolutely nothing about my kindergarten. Nada. Not the teachersa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™s name, not a single classmate, not a single memory of anything at all.

Grade 1 stands out for the first girl that ever made me feel funny inside, and not because I ate her glue.

Later, I recall a teacher who would have the kids have place their palms face up for a lashing with a yardstick if their coat was on the floor. I may or may not have sneakily yanked a few off their hangers to watch the hilarity ensue.

I also distinctly remember the teacher telling us Santa Claus wasnsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t real and more than a few kids crying.

My Mum told me the teacher was wrong, that the magic behind Santa Claus was indeed real and I still believe that today.

The next five years I went to the same elementary school.

Things that stand out: the principal having sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½˜the strapsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™ on the wall; floor hockey leagues, with actual stats kept; a kid tying a yellow ribbon around his business and streaking around the school; a pond in the schoolyard; spending two school days in a giant fridge box before anyone told my parents; hearing the words sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½˜you unmitigated twitsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™ from a teacher and keeping it in my own repertoire to this day; a teacher who wore a lab coat every day and had students go and clean her home as a sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½˜rewardsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™ for their fine work. (Thatsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™s a pi); and having to take a giant flower to the washroom.

Junior high gave me the combination lock I still have (and remember the combination) to this day.

We played ping pong and had food fights in the cafeteria; did a thing called the sa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½˜Mud Runsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™; called BCHL games on TV in our graphic arts class; I made a little cabinet thingie in woodwork that I kept for more than 20 years; and I drove to school for the first time.

If any of my old classmates are seeing this and Isa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™m somehow leaving out some wildly important event, I surely remember it but this is a speed round.

Two years of high school were a mere blink. First thing that pops into my mind was purposely wearing shorts to algebra class on sunny days, which immediately meant you were booted out to suffer the indignity of having to suntan outside.

The walk to the bus was ridiculously long, although it wasnsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t uphill both ways and we were allowed to wear shoes. More than a few times, wesa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™d walk purposely slow, miss the bus and have to go home for pancakes before getting a ride.

I also recall an amazing English teacher who encouraged me to write as a youngster, then would later phone to correct my mistakes in the newspaper.

As of now, itsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™s 12:18 a.m., so Isa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™m going to have to wrap this up. I wonsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t sleep well tonight, since my brain will take me down endless wormholes which might provide better anecdotes for the column. But again, not the point of the exercise.

Now, heresa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™s where I need you.

What are some of your most interesting school memories? Sights, smells, sounds... anything.

What does the beginning of the school year mean to you?

Doesnsa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™t have to be lightning-round style, just some good stories.

Hopefully theresa¹ú¼Ê´«Ã½™s some gems I can share with the class.

PQB News/VI Free Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments and story ideas. He can be reached at 250-905-0029 or via email at philip.wolf@blackpress.ca