I met one of my good friends for dinner the other night (*waves* Hi, Nikki!) and one of the things that we talked about was her oldest child starting kindergarten this fall semester. She’s excited and proud and nervous (about him potentially riding the bus) all at once.
|Waking up for the first day of Kindergarten|
I started to think about my first day at school, and yes, that included riding the school bus. Mrs. McConnell was my kindergarten teacher and I remember walking into the school room full of other kids. Here, I met Marla Miller, Scott Bare, Jimmy Thompson and Lance Shumate. I remember Marla being the first one to talk and play with me (I was too shy to talk to another kid first myself). I remember Jimmy Thompson kissing Vicky Barker and being shocked (I was a strict rule follower and kissing definitely didn’t follow the rules of the classroom).
And on the bus home that afternoon, our neighbor’s son, Jamie, who was in 7th grade, took my hand and walked me up the bus aisle and helped me climb off the bus.
|Waving “Good-bye” on my first day|
Marla, Jimmy, Scott and Lance were friends until we graduated from high school. With the creation of Facebook, I actually know a lot about what is going on in the lives of many of these same people. Where they live, what they do for a living, if they have children, even what their children look like. Kindergarten is definitely a watershed moment in a life. A great beginning — to make friends that can last for the rest of your life, to begin the journey of learning, to begin the process of your world opening up beyond the confines of your family. I’m a little jealous that I don’t have any such “big Milestone” moment left in my life.
As I look at these pictures, however, I think that my days are actually not that much different than they were back in kindergarten. I look pretty much the same when I wake up (no “bright-eyed”, morning person for me). Then I wave good-bye to Matt and head to work. Sometimes, though, work feels like spending my day with 5 year olds, fighting for attention and arguing over toys. “I didn’t do it. He did it.” “No, she did it.” “It wasn’t us.” echo around the halls. The only thing missing is nap time. And we aren’t as cute with milk mustaches.
And like in kindergarten, whether I end the day with my name in the column for making good decisions or in the column for being a poopy head is entirely up to me. I don’t wanna be a poopy head so I’ll do my best not to be. Unless someone kisses me, then all bets are off.