Perhaps my favorite nostalgic holiday memory is Valentine’s Day in Mrs. Langley’s sixth grade class. I am sure that this essay is more for the girls, but it might bring back a memory or two for some of you men, who were the objects of our affection.

In those days, each class made a Valentine Box, which was decorated by the students. It was the size of a hatbox; usually red and trimmed with white lace paper doilies. Frequently we added glitter or glued little heart candies, penny cards and pictures of cupid on the sides. The top of the box had a slit for the depositing of our precious valentines.

I loved cutting hearts out of red construction paper. The art teacher showed us how to fold the paper and trace half of a heart onto the paper next to the fold on the left. Using a small portion of white paste, we attached the now opened and symmetric heart to another piece of folded paper to make a card. These hand made valentines were brought home to our parents and as much as they cherished them, we beamed with the pride of the presentation.

But the cards that would be deposited into ‘The Box’ were of another ilk. They were store bought in large packages of assorted shapes and sizes and were called penny valentines. Some were loose and others had to be torn apart and were square in shape.  I fussed for days over which card to send to my classmates. I was very careful to note if the word love was in the message. Getting a love card in the sixth grade was tantamount to a declaration, which could have serious consequences.

Being the new girl in the class, I had a crush on a boy, who was already claimed by a few others. My chances of getting a ‘love’ message from him were remote. What I feared was getting one from an obnoxious boy who made weird sounds with his palms of his hands. In fact there was one of those cretins who had already told my friend that he ‘liked’ me. If I were to get a love card from him, I knew I would gag even going so far as to throw up. Yes, the sending and receiving of penny valentines was serious business.

 The package always contained a couple of teacher cards and some non-specific ‘I like you’ messages which were good for the kids you didn’t like. Mrs. Langley insisted that each of us send a card to every other. No student was to be left out. I even think that she added some ‘secret’ admirer cards to the box to make sure that did not happen.

 On Valentines Day our mothers brought cupcakes and punch to class. The cupcakes were pink with red cinnamon hearts on top and the punch was red Kool Aid or Zarex. The teacher handed out small cardboard boxes that contained heart shaped candies imprinted with little messages. (Still available and still popular!)

The entire time that the food was being served I glanced furtively at The BOX, which was now placed on a table at the head of the class. “Oh, to know what was inside. Who would love me this February 14th in 1950?”  I was dizzy with anticipation.

 Then came the moment of truth. One boy and one girl were chosen to take off the lid of the box and distribute the cards to the class. None were to be opened until everyone had a pile on their desk. When the box was emptied we could begin.

As it turned out I was loved, and not by the noisemaker or my not so secret crush. My love card sender was a quiet student who rarely looked at anything but his schoolwork.  Neither of us acknowledged his gesture of affection. 

By the end of the sixth grade, I had already transferred my attention to a boy in seventh grade. As the years advanced, our valentines got more sophisticated and the messages more personal.‘ Store bought’ was the expectation and the larger the better.

For those who received none, well, they were left to face heart break and rejection without Mrs. Langley to level the playing field.  I don’t know when Hallmark cards became the standard for excellence, but none was ever more excellent than my first love card delivered directly to my desk in Mrs. Langley’s sixth grade class.