Chalky Hearts and Folded Valentines
by S.C.
I can still remember walking into my classroom on Valentine’s Day in the ’90s, and it really was its own kind of magic. You’d have a stack of paper cards, rubber-banded together, fun-size packs of V-Day candies in a baggie, ready to go. However you showed up, you were part of it. You belonged. Nobody sat out, and nobody got left behind. You handed out valentines to everyone — the kid who borrowed your pencil and never gave it back, your secret crush, even your teacher (who always got a Fun Dip, because that was just the rule).
Maybe what I miss most about Valentine’s Day back then is the total absence of pressure. It wasn’t about being alone or in a relationship. It wasn’t about expectations or flower deliveries. It was a classroom holiday awash in red dye #40, glitter, and the hope of getting the good card from the person you liked. Didn’t get it? No big deal, because you still had 25 others, plus a tiny, fun-shaped eraser.
We would decorate paper bags or empty tissue boxes. I remember the construction paper hearts we’d cut out, the doilies, the glitter, the glue. There were little bits of paper all over our desks, Elmer’s crust on our fingers, and hearts taped to the walls. Some of those crafts made their way home and still resurface today as part of my mom’s Valentine’s decorations. The cards we gave out in class came in perforated sheets — Tiny Toons, Goosebumps, Power Rangers, The Little Mermaid — folded and sealed with a Lisa Frank sticker if you were fancy.
Everyone got one. Even you. Although we all technically got the same amount, it never felt that way. There was something electric about reading each one. Did this one mean something? Why did they choose that card for me?
Childhood mystery. Lots of sugar. Social decoding. It was all there.
And lets be honest: the candy was half the reason we showed up. Its was it’s own kind of currency — less about the sweets themselves and more about the vibe: the smell of cardboard and sugar, the clinking of foil-wrapped chocolates in your paper bag. These were the sweet staples of the ’90s Valentine haul:
Fun Dip – We all pretended to enjoy the dip stick, but we were just here to raw-dog the powder like unhinged little gremlins.
Sweethearts (Conversation Hearts) – Crumbly, pastel, barely legible. But if someone gave you one that said “Be Mine”? You were practically engaged.
Ring Pops – The ultimate romantic gesture. Cherry was the default; watermelon meant you were bold.
Palmer Chocolate Hearts – Slightly waxy, weirdly good when frozen, and wrapped in foil that stuck to everything.
Character Card Lollipops – Sometimes shaped like Mickey, sometimes just a regular sucker with a Batman card stapled on. Either way, you felt seen.
Tootsie Pops & Blow Pops – If the wrapper was red or pink, you’d hit the jackpot. If you got a blue raspberry, you made trades.
Hershey’s Kisses – Usually appeared in tiny baggies from a classmate who had help at home. That silver foil always felt just a little classier.
Red Hots & Cinnamon Hearts – Not for the faint of heart. If someone gave you these, they either liked you or wanted to watch you suffer.
Valentine’s Day Didn’t Stop at the Classroom. It followed us home in the shows we watched — Arnold wondering who sent the anonymous card, Sabrina the Teenage Witch casting love spells that went sideways, Full House having a heart-to-heart dinner. Even cartoons like Arthur had us thinking about crushes, kindness, and giving. Somehow, it all felt bigger back then — like love, or at least the candy version of it, was for everyone.
I still think about those plastic tablecloths and juice boxes. The “you rock!” card from someone I never really talked to. The feeling of celebrating a holiday that didn’t ask too much of us, other than to just show up for each other.
If you’ve got a box of those old cards in storage — or even just the memory of one — dig it out. Give yourself a second to remember the feeling of being included, even if the candy was a little chalky.
Tell us — what was in your Valentine’s bag?
