A collective funk is descending upon America’s children these days. Moms are outfitting kids with new clothes. That means only one thing: the back-to-school blues are here again.
That sad song has been sung every late summer for ages. But would you believe that a few generations ago, one group of kids not only didn’t mind the start of the new school year, but they eagerly looked forward to it.
There was nothing to suggest a momentous event was at hand that September day in the 1950s. Students were settling into their annual routine as the new school term began at Elysian Heights Elementary School in Los Angeles’ Echo Park neighborhood. And then a visitor dropped by.
In that long-ago time when schools didn’t have air conditioning (except for the principal’s office), doors and windows were flung open in hopes of catching a breeze. The visitor took advantage of that and casually sauntered into the schoolhouse as if he owned the place.
He was a gray-striped tabby cat with a chubby face and a white patch running from his mouth, down his chest, and to his belly. He was underfed, with a few ribs showing. His hair was dusty and unkempt. A slight notch in one ear suggested he’d survived a fight. He was friendly, yet also unsure how his presence would be taken.
The cat went first to Room 8 and entered without fanfare. He took inventory of the place, sniffing bags, books, and desks, even allowing children to pet him. He was friendly, but not overly affectionate. He seemed wary, wanting to make sure he was in a safe space before letting his guard down.
When he’d finished inspecting Room 8, he worked his way through the rest of the building, dropping in on classrooms, bathrooms, closets, and the front office.
As you’d expect, the kids went wild. It wasn’t every day a feline slinked into a place of learning, after all, and he was an instant hit. The cat decided not only that the school was acceptable, but that it was now his new digs. The strange stray had found a home. Sort of.
Although he decreed the entire school his personal domain, Room 8 was his favorite hangout. So students extended the name to him. From then on, he was Room 8 the Cat.
Teachers seized on the unexpected development and turned Room 8 into a learning opportunity. Special “Room 8 monitors” were selected to look after the cat. Caring for him became a group project. Students and teachers alike brought food from home. His hair was brushed, and he was kept tidy.
He was the inspiration for art projects, poems, essay assignments, and Christmas cards. In return, Room 8 was an old soul who seemed to relish mentoring kids.
His daily routine was as structured as that of his classmates. He arrived every morning precisely at 8 a.m. and followed the students inside. He spent the next two hours making the rounds, strolling through the different classrooms, making sure the school day was running smoothly. Naptime came at 10, usually on a windowsill, radiator, or even in some lucky student’s lap.
At lunchtime, he accompanied kids outside and politely nibbled whatever morsels they shared, though he wasn’t a pig and never overate. An afternoon inspection of the premises followed. He seemed to particularly enjoy hanging out with younger students during their storytime.
When the final bell rang at 3:00, Room 8 departed with the rest of the student body. Nobody knew where he went. But he was always back again at 8:00 sharp the next morning.
As the school year wound down, teachers and students thought that would be the end of that. There was a tearful farewell on the final day.
To everyone’s surprise, Room 8 showed up again on the first day of school that September. A ritual was born. He spent the academic term hanging out at Elysian Heights Elementary, did his own thing all summer, and was back for more the following first day of school.
Word of the cat’s mysterious comings and goings—and the school’s affection for him—spread. Soon, news crews were on hand on the first day of every school year. Like the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano in March, Room 8’s return was reported each September.
Celebrity followed. The “Weekly Reader” and “Look” magazine did photo spreads on him. A children’s book was written about him. Radio stations interviewed him (though kids and teachers provided the answers). He was featured on Ark Linkletter’s “House Party.” He even rode in a limousine to one guest appearance.
As the 1960s wound down, time caught up with him. Room 8’s classroom visits grew shorter, with him even skipping some days entirely. A local family near the school took him in. When he died peacefully on Aug. 13, 1968, The Los Angeles Times ran a full obituary. A mural was dedicated in his memory inside the school.
A collection was raised, and a large marker was placed on his grave in a local pet cemetery.
