Sep 8, 2006

First and Second Days

This morning, I was standing next to a little girl who was crying to her mom (who, by the way, had a month-old baby slung in her arms) that she didn't want to go back to River School! Over and over. But oddly, none of the passengers were getting annoyed. I suppose they all felt sympathy for the exhausted mother.

Or maybe, like me, they were remembering their own childhoods. When I was about three, my parents signed me up for daycare at Mrs. Haileli's (or however you spell it--I was three, I didn't really care that much about spelling). I had been staying with Paula and her son who drew all over my dolls but I didn't care. Mrs. Haileli's, on the other hand, was pure torture.

I don't even really remember why--there were other kids there, it was at a house much like Paula's. But the other kids all had their routine, and I didn't know it, and Mrs. Haileli would get frustrated with me for not knowing it, and the other kids would laugh. I think. Hey, all I know is I thought the kids were mean and I was scared to death of Mrs. Haileli. So I feel a certain sympathy for the little girl, whose reasons for not wanting to go back to River School may be perfectly valid.

(I have to give my parents props--after a couple days of me firmly rejecting any suggestion of going to Mrs. Haileli's, they made other arrangements. And Mrs. Haileli's legacy is that of the boogeyman, which is fitting).

On the other hand, I bet Girl would have very little sympathy for this girl. Yesterday was her first day. Walking her to school, we ran into other parents and kids in her class and such, and it became quite the parade.

(Quite the Croc Parade, tangentially. Crocs were well-represented, even by Girl, whose lovely dress and tights and crocs made an interesting combination. Sigh. She has shown excellent fashion sense, but she has obviously not yet sacrificed comfort on its altar. For which I suppose I should be grateful, given that I have a blister on my pinkie toe from yesterday's high heels).

Girl was so different from me on my first day of Kindergarten. Of course, her big brother goes to the school, and she has friends that are going to be in her class, but man, she was totally fearless. Me, I clung to my mother's legs until I made a friend, and then proceeded to cling to her for the rest of my childhood.

Hey, I was scarred. Mrs. Haileli is a scary lady.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hmmm, my recollection is that you never quit talking the whole way to preschool on your first day. "Mom, are we there yet?" "Mom, do you have my things?" (Actually, you pronounced it more as "Shings.") "Mom, are you going fast enough? Mom, you do have my shings, right? Mom, are we getting closer? Mom. . ." I don't remember that you took a breath. So where did the shy, Mrs. Hailele thing come from?