A few weeks ago I was reading Ashley’s blog, Writing To Reach You, when she started a new series called Blogging Through The Years. The idea is that you write a blog post about each year, beginning with kindergarten and following through college. Once I read Ashley’s post about kindergarten, I knew I wanted to follow along and write about my own experiences as well. If you like this idea, feel free to join us!
I remember certain parts of kindergarten fairly well considering I barely turned five years old that September. In fact, I probably remember more from kindergarten than I do from first grade, but we’ll get to that later.
Kindergarten was not my first year of school. I had been in mother’s day out and spent a year in pre-school, so I was familiar with the routines. My teacher was an older lady with gray hair and big glasses. She reminded me of a nice grandmother, but she also scared me.
When my mom or dad would drop me off at school in the morning, I would stand at the window in my classroom and watch them drive away. I remember being so sad that they left me, but I don’t think I cried… too much.
My sister was born that August. I remember feeling her kick inside my mom’s stomach. I remember being woken up in the middle of the night and taken to the neighbor’s house. I remember my dad driving me to the hospital the next morning and holding her for the first time, but I don’t remember much else about having a baby sister this year.
This was the year I met most of the friends I would keep until fifth grade. Our school was small with only one or two classes per grade. My best friend in kindergarten was a girl named Samantha. I don’t remember much of her at school, but I remember playing barbies at her house. She moved away after that year and I never saw her again. I still think about her sometimes and I’ve even tried to look her up on facebook, but no luck.
In school, when we were learning how to connect the dots I was told to sit behind the teacher’s desk because I was connecting the numbers… not the dots. It was so embarrassing and I’m pretty sure this is one of the reasons I’m such a perfectionist when it comes to school work.
One day I walked into the classroom wearing a baggy sweatshirt with rhinestones all over it and the teacher told me that she wished they made it in her size. even thought I’m sure she didn’t mean it, I felt like the coolest kid in school that day.
We took a field trip to a local farm we where saw different animals that year. At the end of the trip the farmer asked if anyone wanted to put a snake around their neck. A few kids volunteered, but I was too scared. Our teacher did it and someone took a picture. I kept that photograph for years. I may still have it in a box somewhere.
During free centers I would pick out a book, sit in a chair, and my friends would sit on the floor in a semi-circle in front of me. I told them I knew how to read, but really, I would make up a story as I turned the pages of the book. I don’t think anyone ever figured out my elaborate scheme.
Every day we would sit on the floor and learn different stories. Often the teacher would have an easel with felt pictures to illustrate the story. One time the teacher was explaining how someone was fired from their job. She asked to make we sure we all knew what that meant. No one raised their hand, but I thought it meant the person was burned alive while they were at work.
During our handwriting lessons we learned to write each letter of the alphabet. One day the teacher told me my “m” was beautiful, but a little too close to the next letter. I was so sad that I had to erase it.
Every morning we counted our numbers aloud and the teach followed along with her pointer on the large number chart hanging on the wall. I thought this was so boring and most of the time I only mouthed the words.
We had naptime every afternoon with the other kindergarten class from across the hall. On the days when I wasn’t tired, I would sleep next to this boy, Michael, and play with his fingers while he was sleeping. (Yes, I was a strange child, haha.) He never woke up, but it kept me entertained.
When I wasn’t bothering Michael while he was trying to sleep, I was watching the other kindergarten teacher cut out pieces of paper. I was in awe of how she could move the scissors around so quickly without making any mistakes.
This was also the year I got the chicken pox. I don’t remember being sick or feeling itchy, but I do remember my Nana coming to stay with me while my parents were at work. She painted my nails and took me to McDonald’s. I thought it was so cool that I got to miss school and play on the playscape and eat french fries.
