A lot of times I get choked up when I take Birdie to his Kindergarten. The teachers seem so patient and good, tirelessly tying shoelaces and wiping chins. The ABC's and colorful pictures of seasons taped on the walls look vivid and cheerful. It is early in the morning, and I am still sleepy and feeling sensitive as the five year old students start bustling to attention, sorting out puzzles, marking their own attendance, ordering their lunches with color-coded popsicle sticks. From my perspective this looks like an orderly, sweet, productive and tolerant world.
What gets to me is the memory of when I was five. Since I was left alone so much, I already had a sharp survival instinct. My brother and I would wake ourselves in the cold house, make our breakfasts, and walk separately the mile to our school. I was so shy and uncomfortable with the other kindergarteners. I would have rather been at home by myself, although I did not feel safe at home either. My kindergarten teacher offered to drive me to school in the mornings so I would not be late all the time, and I guess my mother agreed, since there was a period of time when the teacher would stop by the house to pick me up, and drive me from one confusing, lonely spot to the other.
Birdie is also shy at school. Although I struggle with the effort of raising my kids in a loving environment, at least I am there for them and at least I know I am doing better than my parents did with me.
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