I think I’m a good person. I play fair, clean up after myself, wash my hands before I eat, and I don’t take things that aren’t mine. I think I turned out okay even though I never got to go to kindergarten.
Robert Fulghum wrote a little book entitled, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” He advises that we all learn lessons about life in kindergarten. My lessons might have come a little later, but their importance is still the same.
When I was four years old, my mother died from a brain tumor. My father, brother and I were left in the sad and lonely predicament of trying to live our lives without her. During the long summer following her death, I turned five, and my dad made the decision to keep me home and not send me to kindergarten when the fall came. Later in life, when I asked him about this resolution to keep me home, he said, “I thought it would be too much change for you, after losing your mama.”
And change it was. That summer he employed a live-in-housekeeper, Mrs. Fish, and when September rolled around, my brother went off to 4th grade while Fishie (as I called her) and I stayed home.
I remember very little about that year at home except our black and white tv and Captain Kangaroo. Captain Kangaroo would read me a story every day. He had puppet friends like Mr. Bunny Rabbit, Mr. Moose, and Miss Frog. Even though I was not alone, I felt lonely because our neighborhood friends were all at school and I was left behind. So, I colored page after page in my coloring books, played outside on my red swing set, and had my hour with Captain Kangaroo and his sidekick, Mr. Green Jeans.
Time did pass, as it always does, and when the next September came, I went to first grade. I was as shy and awkward as a new fawn, yet when I met my teacher, Miss Ruth Hooper, I knew I would be safe. She was a handsome woman, standing six feet tall in her functional black flats. A ‘spinster,’ as my dad would say, and more than capable of corralling a feisty group of six-year-olds. In fact, Miss Ruth Hooper ruled with an iron hand and a soft heart.
Miss Hooper understood my gangly ways. Having been a tall girl herself, she could feel my angst at being the tallest child in the class. She knew what I was going through with my abnormally long arms and legs. She was able to nurture that motherless part of me that needed extra care, while attempting to never show favoritism. And even though Miss Ruth Hooper never married or had a child of her own, she was just what I needed when I needed it the most.
At seventy-two years old, I can now look back and confidently say that I turned out okay for never going to kindergarten. Somehow, I caught up with my colors, and numbers and memorizing the months of the year, but occasionally I like to use it as a crutch. At family gatherings if I am slow to catch on to a joke, or have trouble finding 18% of a number or even when I just plain need an excuse… “well, after all, I didn’t get to go to kindergarten,” and everyone will just nod and accept that as the reason I am the way I am.
I find it no coincidence that during my professional career in education, I was lucky enough to teach kindergarten for seven years. In spite of the fact that I never got to go myself, I enjoyed every part of teaching that formative year. I relished the songs, found wonder in a growing lima bean seed and learned right along with the children about community helpers, insects, and farms. I have taught hundreds of children the alphabet and seen their faces light up when sounding out a word. I have held many a tiny hand in mine as we attempted to walk in a straight line in the hallway. I have more than made up for that one year I spent at home with Fishie and Captain Kangaroo. Lucky me, in so many ways.
“Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. And when you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.” Amen.
Sittin' Ugly Sistahs 