Today my daughter took her kindergarten assessment test. Forgive me while I switch into Proud-Mama-Mode and brag for a moment. The average score for this test is 90. My daughter scored 112. I am well on my way to having a “My kid is smarter than your kid” bumper sticker on my car.
My mind drifts back to when I started kindergarten. I remember that day very well. I wore blue shorts and a blue and white striped shirt with new white Keds. I had a brand new Barbie backpack. My hair was in the same cut that my daughter’s is in. I was determined to ride the school bus so Mom met me at the school and I bought cafeteria food for lunch. To say that I was excited was a drastic understatement. One would’ve thought that my elementary school was actually located inside Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyworld and not across from a cow pasture in Nowhereville, NC. Life was just beginning and I was eager to jump on the education train and take off!
Enter Kindergarten teacher FROM HELL.
I won’t call names here, even though I REALLY want to, but my kindergarten teacher was 3 shades of evil. Rather than studying at a university, I’m convinced that this woman received her degree from an Al-Queda torture center. She hated me. I do not exaggerate. From the first day of school she HATED me. Granted, I was a colorful child. I liked to talk, giggle and oddly enough, I even quacked like a duck for the first three months of school… but that is no reason to receive the treatment I did that year.
Every day I was in trouble for something, whether I was guilty or not. I never received special treats like the other kids and frequently sat in time-out during recess. I always had to sleep in the dreaded spot by her desk at naptime and I NEVER got to be the Wake-Up Fairy. She would scream at me until her face turned red and I started to cry. My mother, who worked at the school, was continually in my classroom defending me from the horrid teacher. My whole family remembers that year.
I believe that things that happen to us as children directly mold and shape the adults that we become. While I do not blame any of the bad choices I made on anyone, I can’t help but wonder how my life might have been altered had I not had her as a teacher. If I hadn’t been mislabeled as such a “bad kid” at such a formative age, would I have had more respect for myself and made better decisions when I got older? Maybe. We’ll never know.
Two weeks ago, while at out with friends in my hometown, we saw this woman. After telling the details over dinner, they all agreed that she even looked evil. Of course, the teacher didn’t regard my presence and wouldn’t remember me if her life depended on it. All the while, my blood boiled over at the simple sight of her. She still teaches kindergarten.
Canaan’s first day of school is next week. She is wearing blue shorts and a blue and white striped shirt. She picked out a brand new Barbie backpack. The similarities are coincidental and CREEPY. I won’t allow her kindergarten resemblance to go any further than that – I will be driving her to school and packing her lunch. Also… do you know a good bouncer for hire?
Photo courtesy of Vickie Riley Photography
