Reflecting on reunions...

"Is this Vicente Lopez? That's where we used to live...."

"I'm so curious if our house even exists anymore..."

"I lived up a hill, I think...."

"Look at all the new buildings...they weren't here when we were in school."

"Do you remember Paco's? " "Yeah...we used to go for ice cream after school."

"Are we at the school? Is this it? I remember when we went to the building in Belgrano. Were you there then? "

Conversations swirled around me on the charter bus from downtown Buenos Aires to the northern suburb of La Lucila and the American Community School. We were headed to the 75th reunion celebration of the founding of Lincoln School, now known as the American Community School. 

Having moved often and changed schools several times, I never wanted to attend a class reunion perhaps for fear I wouldn't know anyone. I did go to my 30th college reunion but remember having difficulty finding things in common with classmates I hadn't seen in years. I came away with the realization that the few friends I cared about in college, I was still friends with years later. The same thoughts came back to me at the ACS Open House event yesterday.

What makes the American Community School celebration different is that it is an international school with 75 years of graduates of many nationalities. There were at least 600 people who came to the Open House and reception and more than half had traveled from abroad (mostly the United States) to attend. There were graduates and teachers from 1936 to the present. A panel of alumni from different decades, spoke about their experiences and memories of ACS. The resounding theme for all was that the school was a safe haven regardless of race, religion, or nationality in spite of what was going on in the world. I heard people saying, 'there was no prejudice and no discrimination", over and over again. My Hungarian Argentine classmate who went 12 years to ACS said her parents sent her there because it was the only place in Buenos Aires where she would not encounter anti-Semitism. I had never realized this but maybe my liberal views of the world grew from my experiences right here.

The most frequently asked questions were "how long has it been since you've been back to Argentina?" or "is this the first time you've been back?" Suddenly I realized that returning to Argentina after 35 years, or even the 54 years since I was in elementary school, did not set me apart from anyone. Most of us were experiencing the same thing. Another prevalent question was "how long were you here for?" For some like me, it was only elementary school years, and for others it was till graduation from high school and every combination in between. The reunion prompted many siblings to get together to make the trip back to Argentina. I found myself talking with so many who said "have you met my sister or my brother? or "my sister said she was coming so I decided to come to."

When I started first grade in 1950, the Lincoln School was in a colonial style building in Belgrano. In 1954, the school moved to an estate along the Rio de la Plata with a large mansion (which is still called The Mansion and is the administrative building) and lots of land for athletic fields and playgrounds in a picturesque setting by the river. Lincoln merged with the American Community School and is now the American Community School. In my day, the Mansion housed classrooms, a lunch room and everything we needed during the course of the school day. Today ACS has a modern campus which includes a new gymnasium, an indoor/outdoor swimming pool, an elementary wing, a big Media Center, a Theater and everything else an elite private school offers. The campus still retains the sweeping views across the river and in the distance there is the skyline of Buenos Aires.

A reunion of American Community School alumni is more than just reconnecting with classmates. For extranjeros (foreigners) like me, coming back after many years triggers memories of a unique childhood in a far away country. Just being back in Argentina we find ourselves needing to search for the house or houses we lived in, the neighborhood we called "home" and the children outside of school we played with. We remember the maid or nanny who helped raise us, and the foods we loved like empanadas, alfajores, and dulce de leche. 

The blue and white Argentine flag with the sun in the middle seems as familiar as the stars and stripes we salute in the U.S. The tango music and Argentine folklore brings sudden tears to our eyes. My best friend from elementary school said to me, "I am reminded of, and see my mother here in Buenos Aires more than anywhere else." Her mother passed away two years ago. Certain Argentine expressions like hola pibes (hi, guys) or macanudo (great) remind me of my father who died recently. He spoke Spanish with such enthusiasm because he loved learning languages. He liked to communicate in Argentine slang just as the locals do and I hear him in my head as I walk the streets of Buenos Aires.

Because my family left Buenos Aires when I finished fifth grade, I did not remember specific classmates, teachers, or even classrooms at the school. However, for most of us who have come back to Argentina after many years, the experience of being together at this anniversary celebration is a validation that we really lived here. It suddenly doesn't seem so remote and distant. I sense that people are embracing the opportunity to let down and talk about their childhood in a way that they haven't been able to during their adult lives. This is what I'll remember for years to come.