I have a very long list of stories and things that I’m dying to tell you. All at once! But I can’t. Have I mapped out a blog schedule of all these topics? Psssssshhht. While I have a general sense of timing mapped out, my belief is that in the true sense of social media, the cadence of stories as they unfold is best judged by human intuition, day by day. I also know that there are certain gems that truly define and contextualize my beliefs and actions, and today I thought you were ripe for THE most important vignette (Yes! I said it!) – this is it.
Preschool. Mrs. Howard’s classroom.
I have very little recollection of preschool. I remember the feelings; I can picture myself running around on the rootftop playground hanging over the parking lot, the sand box, the hallway where I’d say goodbye to my mom or dad every morning, the bright classroom walls, the music lessons, the teacher’s helpers. A tender, blurry, and fairly fond portrait remains of my first three years of education.
The few specific memories that have somehow managed to adhere to my hippocampus for 25 years are pretty much summarized as follows:
– The time I picked up two big blocks at once during cleanup, something only a boy would dare to do.
– Making noodle art of my initials with my new best friend Jenn and talking about stupid smelly boys.
– Coming in second place in a heated game of musical chairs. And being completely devastated over it.
The rest of my memories are relegated to stories – like this one, that has been repeated like the gospel:
One afternoon the class gathered on the carpet in a circle, and we were about to have a very important discussion for three-year-olds to have: What do you want to be when you grow up?
We went around the circle:
“When I grow up I want to be a firefighter,” said one kid.
“When I grow up I want to be a teacher,” said another.
“When I grow up I want to be a doctor,” it continued.
Then it was my turn. I said:
“When I grow up I want to be me.”
I was three, and I was onto something.
Because really, that’s the only thing I know how to be.