Lithuanian School

The Lithuanians in our suburb ran a Saturday school. Our school was not as ambitious as the Saturday schools that arose in areas with substantial Lithuanian populations. It was "Lithuanian School Light." Parents—some trained as teachers, and some not—staffed the school. The school work was not rigorous. Although all of us were fluent in the language, many of us graduated with primitive writing and reading skills.

I remember Lithuanian school as a place where I skirted my lessons, rarely concentrated, and acted out in ways I wouldn't dream of in regular school. I dreaded Lithuanian school. It seemed crazy that I had to go to school on Saturday when all of my American friends got to play on that day.

Mr. Irene didn't have to go to Lithuanian school. He was "exempt." That's a story for another day.

The Lithuanian school rented classroom space from our parish school. Classes took place in the morning in the school's old building. In the afternoon, we headed down to the building's dank basement, where we engaged in the cultural portion of our school day. We learned to folk dance, sing, and—yuck—recite poetry.

There were some enjoyable things about the school. I cemented a few lifelong friendships there. Once a month or so, the parents and teachers treated the children to a lunch of hot dogs and Lay's potato chips after we'd finished our cultural lessons. The school also sponsored a picnic every June.

The best part about Lithuanian school, however, was the annual Christmas pageant.

Melrose Park, Illinois, December 1963. I recite a poem for Santa and the audience. I wear a red velveteen jumper that my Mom sewed. It had white snowflake appliqués around the neckline.

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Melrose Park, Illinois, December 1963. My Mom, fourth from left, enjoys some coffee and cookies with the other adults as they watch our show.

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Melrose Park, Illinois, December 1963. Even the principal of the parish school, Sister Patricia, attends the show. Father Stanley, a Lithuanian priest, appears to be passing out plotkelės that the families take home for the Kūčios celebration.

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Melrose Park, Illinois, December 1963. Finally, a Santa Fake presents my gift.

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Melrose Park, Illinois, December 1966. This pattern continued for many years. Here, I wear a home-sewn blue dress with duck appliqués.