My outfit, for the first day of kindergarten, had been picked out the night before, my stuffed monkey was packed and ready to go with me. But, the first day of kindergarten was important because MY older sister was going to be in the 6th grade and SHE was going to have power, she was going to be a MONITOR. Yup, that’s right, and I would be able to watch her and know that she was My sister and only MINE. I remember sitting in the kindergarten room with my mom on the window ledge and watching my sister’s every move. I think she wore a green sash, nothing like a green sash to show others how important your role is in the school’s hierarchy. I was important by pure family osmosis and I was proud.
My REAL kindergarten teacher was absent the first day of school, can you imagine that? The substitute teacher went around the room asking the kids their names, I was first and I told her my name. She must have gotten confused because she asked me again. I remember saying, not in a mean, malicious way, but in a confused way, “you already asked me that” and my mother not being too pleased with my answer, prodded me in my ribs. It was true, wasn’t it? She had already asked me and I had already answered, nothing had changed in the last ten minutes that I was aware of…..I have always been honest, to a fault it seems.
I went back to the window and watched my sister, my sister who was 5 and a half years older than me, tell kids to straighten up, to be quiet, to march in rows, I grinned. I was so proud of her. This would be the only year we would overlap in school and I was determined to enjoy what little of it I could see. I had hoped to be in the same class as my best friend, Glen, but one of us had the morning section and the other one had the afternoon section. It worked out fine, I made friends with girls named Lisa and Debbie and the era of delightful girlfriends started and lasted many, many years. We wove in and out of each others lives like tapestry, once in a while we still pop in with a quick hello with great fondness and memories of our youth.