This week my youngest child and only daughter starts kindergarten. All day kindergarten. Each time I think about it, I get a little teary eyed. I think kindergarten just affects me that way. I cried when I started kindergarten, too,….all four times.
Four times?!? No, I didn’t fail kindergarten even once. I moved four times in one year. I started kindergarten in Massachusetts. I wasn’t there long. In fact, I don’t remember much more than the excitement of the first day. Mom brushed my long hair and I put on a pretty dress. Then we got into the car and drove to the school. When I realized that I had to stay without my mom in a room full of strange kids, I cried.
Within a few weeks, we had moved to upstate New York. Mrs. Kirk was my teacher’s name. I don’t remember whether or not my mom drove me. I ended up walking most days with her, but that first day may have been special enough for a ride. I remembered how awful the last first day was, though, so the waterworks repeated themselves. I didn’t get a chance to make too many friends or get used to things however because before too long, the Air Force sent my father to Montgomery,Alabama for a multi-week training course.
I remember more of those weeks in Alabama than the rest of the year. Of course I cried the first day, but I made friends and enjoyed my teacher. We lived in a mobile home during those weeks. While we lived there, a destructive tornado came through Montgomery. I slept through it, but my mom lay awake all night listening to the storm. The next day, we passed other mobile home parks that had been destroyed by the twister. That part sticks in my mind.
After the training course was over, we returned to New York. Although I had been in Mrs. Kirk’s class before, I still cried upon entering her classroom again. Four moves in one year was just too much. Things did settle down, though. We ended up staying in Rome, New York for three years. I never cried on the first day of class again…until perhaps this next week.