Down the stairs. Through the long hallway lined with lockers. Turn right. Down 3 more stairs. Into the room that belonged to her.
Ms. Sandberg. I don’t remember her face clearly, though my mind tells me she wore her hair in a bun and her face was wrinkly. She had a harsh voice. In my mind she was mean.
The room was colorful. There was a specific space for my basket that housed my glue, scissors and crayons. We weren’t allowed markers.
Through a doorway on the left side of the room and down a little ramp was our play area. It looked like a kitchen, complete with a table and chairs.
I spent a day, hour, brief amount of time with my head down there for pulling a chair out from under my table mate Andrea Arndt. In my mind I was pulling out the chair to help her sit. In reality her butt hit the floor.
That left a lasting impression on me. It’s my only kindergarten memory.