Valentine’s Day, for many of us in grade school, meant a slit cut in a shoebox stuffed with assorted cards we made (or bought, for us non-creative types) the night before with scissors, glue and red construction paper.

It meant scrawled notes that stated, “Be My Valentine” or “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Maybe even a “G.I. Joe Wishes YOU a Happy Valentine’s Day” for anyone lucky enough to receive G.I. Joe valentines.

On those party days, like on Halloween, birthdays, Christmas (before the evil politically correct claws descended on the public school systems) or St. Patrick’s Day, teachers took the last couple hours of class to celebrate.

For Halloween, students dressed up as their favorite ghouls and ghosts and pranced around the school yard. Teachers gathered the students in the gymnasium for the Christmas assembly, and we’d sing songs one or two notes off-key — but it still sounded perfect.

The most ornate holiday celebration was, of course, Valentine’s Day.

Teachers usually would request the shoebox/mailbox concoction to be created at home under parental supervision. But sometimes we’d forget about those nuances and take an extra 15 minutes of class to construct our own valentine boxes out of our lunch’s paper bags.

Then, while drinking red Kool-Aid and munching those delectable cookies that always tasted perfect, we’d pass out valentines to the kids in class.

To every oddball, like me, Valentine’s Day presented a very depressing insight into student popularity. Many kids’ mailboxes would overflow with notes, valentines and candies, making those kids as happy as they could get.

But others only would sink and stare into their depleted boxes because at 12, even the slightest disapproval could be devastating.

Before too long, the bell would ring and we’d examine our share of valentines. Then we’d smile or frown depending on our bounty.

I usually frowned, but smiled and felt a brief, passing glee when a girl whom I never would have the gall to sit next to on the bus would write a simple valentine note, probably out of sympathy for the poor kid that, for some strange reason, always sat secluded near the back of the bus.

Happy Valentine’s Day.