Kindergarten

(I promise I will not tell about every year. . . )

At some point, I had to go to school.  It seems I remember watching my brother and sister getting ready for school in the past, so it was just accepted that this was the next stage of my life.  I walked with them.  They walked me to the door of my area which was separated from the rest of the school, and they went on.  I went in.  I do not remember a lot about what we did.  I remember show and tell, but I do not remember ever showing or telling anything. It would have been a bit boring for them I think to tell them I was related to kings, and Mayflower passengers, but I would have if I had known.  I remember playing with the other kids using what the teachers of that time thought were the things kids needed to help them learn to associate with others.  I remember playing outside, and the chain-link fence separating us from the big kids. I remember sitting against a wall in the sun, and eating my snack, usually pieces of apple my mom had cut up for me, surrounded by the others, all with whatever their moms thought was best for their snack-time. The apple pieces would be discolored a bit with age, but they were still good. There was a sewage treatment facility near enough that when the wind blew just hard enough, it would blow soap suds into the playground, like soft white tumbleweeds. I remember the air force base still being visible, but at a slightly different angle than from home. And at times, you could see the Nike missiles.

I guess for those under a certain age that must not make a lot of sense.  Anyone born after the mid to late ’60s only would be familiar with Nikes being the shoes they wear or want to wear. These were the kind of Nikes that used to be a part of our defense system- at least during the cold war.  As I grew older, I realized we were literally surrounded by these sites in the Bay Area at that time.  We could see one from my kindergarten playground, which must have been to the north near Hamilton Field. There is another one south of there, up on the hill between Santa Venetia and San Rafael. These bases were everywhere. I do remember seeing the missiles being raised for testing, or maybe they were just replacing older ones with the next new model that went further or did whatever they did a bit better. When we moved again as I was starting the first grade, the school I was in was adjacent to the main freeway in the area.  More Nikes.  This time, on flatbed trucks being hauled to the bases so other kids could watch them being raised or lowered. Thankfully, I never saw one fired off for any reason, although when I was old enough to know what they were but too young to appreciate the purpose, I wanted to see one go off.

Back in kindergarten, I began to learn about life in new ways.  It was not all fluffy white suds blowing into the schoolyard, or eating apples at snack time.  There was serious stuff going on; like rest time.  How weird is that?  To be expected to rest lying on a mat, or with your head down on a table. This is not the first time I had to do what I was told without knowing why, and it would not be the last. But, rest periods certainly did not last much beyond the first couple of years of schooling. I seem to remember being way past daily nap times at that point. Nowadays, it would be something I might see the value in doing.  Then, not so much.

I played house. I am not sure how often. But it is in there someplace that I did it. This was complete with the fake miniature house.  “I’ll be the mommy, you be the daddy.” How that came out I can only wonder. That memory is not there. Hopefully I would not have been emulating my father in any detailed way, or they would have thrown me out of school.  Probably, I just stood there and did what the mommy told me to do, and wondered if going to school would always be so weird.