Plenty of posts and videos show younger people being presented with, and ask to identify, things like dial-up internet, analog telephones and fax machines. My memories precede these artifacts.
I am going to date myself since this post deals with much older, even ancient, yet very beloved memories of the antiquated equipment/accessories that I have used, and worse than that, still wish they were in service today.
Our school desks all had ink wells, into which we inserted bottles of ink, provided by the Protestant School Board of Greater Montreal, aka Bureau métropolitain des écoles protestantes de Montréal. The Board also gave each pupil a fountain pen, and a nib. Upon hitting the floor, the nib would break, and ink would be splattered hither, thither and yon. Grace a dieu, we are also provided with blotting pads, to blot the ink from pearls of wisdom we wrote, and/or, for the ink which splattered on the floor.
You could break one nib, which could be labelled as unfortunate, or carelessness. Break two nibs, and you did not get a third strike, but rather a detention, meaning, walking home in the dark at 4 PM.
At the beginning of each school year, there was a sale of old text books, used by previous students. In each used book, there was a stamp which could read:
PSBGM
1961 Sherman Waxman
1962 Sophie LaLonde
1963 Glen Snow
I am not a materialist, but I always preferred new books, except for math. I knew that nothing could save my white ass from algebra or geometry. Whether or not you purchased a used book and bought a new one, a book cover was provided by RBC Banque Royale, aka The Royal Bank of Canada. These paper covers featured pics of bankers at work in a branch of course, as well as high buildings and places of employment.
Some teachers rationed these book covers, others believed “to each according to his needs”. I loved these book covers, and tried to weasel as many as I could. “And what is that wad of book covers doing in your hand?”
On each book cover were two lines: Name & Subject. We were all given one hour to wrap these books. “No need to giggle and chatter-wrap the books and then read one of them; this is not a social gathering. Did you hear what I said?”
New books and new paper covers each had a distinct smell. The ink made stains.
They all made sweet memories of a simpler place in time.
Those desks and chairs were ancient. Money for eduction was not considered essential in those days any more than it is now.
In later years, there was a fellow student who thought it would be amusing to remove the screws from one of the 30 chairs in our classroom. It was an elegant form of tomfoolery: Sit down on the chair, its legs would splay, and then fall apart. It was moved around after each class, making us paranoid to sit down when we’d enter the classroom.
I am older than you and I can relate to all of what you say.