My Kindergarten

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.

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About Brotherly Love

I am a mom, partner, teacher and a lover of life. I have two fabulous boys who define my life as I know it. One of my children has been diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, Asperger's and anxiety disorder. I blog as much about him as I do about my life and the lives of my immediate family.
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2 Responses to My Kindergarten

  1. Hmph. Andrea Arndt probably deserved it. I love that you remember her whole name. You don’t remember snack time? That’s the best part of kindergarten, if you ask me.

  2. Elastamom says:

    I have terrible memories of Kindergarten. Seriously. I can’t believe I ended up loving school and becoming a teacher with how awfully it started!

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