Kindergarten

On my first day of kindergarten, the boy who lived behind us turned up at our back door to walk me to school.  Billy was going into grade one.  His older sisters might have been with him.  I don't think we'd planned for him to come by.  Anyhow I wouldn't go with him.  I didn't want to go at all.  My mother walked me to the end of the path leading to the Kindergarten door.  I cried.  I didn't want to go.  I never wanted to go to school.

Later that fall, perhaps it was in November, my parents took a trip to Florida.  This was pretty unusual and may even have been their first vacation since they got married.  Grannie stayed with us, my older brothers and me.  I may be mixing up various times but the story is the same.  During that week when my parents were away I wet my pants at school.  There was a puddle on the floor and the teacher asked who did it.  I didn't speak.  She came around feeling everyone's pants and I was found out.  She took off my underpants and hung them on a radiator to dry.  I had to sit with bare skin on a piece of paper towel.

Of course I told no one.  I was afraid to speak so how could I ask to leave the room for the bathroom.  I was also afraid I might do something horrible once there.  A five year old girl afraid of doing something unforgiveable.  Horrible.

Towards the end of Kindergarten I was sitting at a table colouring one day when a visitor walked in.  The visitor was looking for art work to display at the Ex.  Whoever it was looked at my picture and was thinking of using it but then they chose the picture of another girl.  After that I knew that the girl they picked was artistic and I wasn't.  I still have the picture.  Looking back now, I can imagine they were probably after something more representational.