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- This file is copyright of Jens Schriver (c)
- It originates from the Evil House of Cheat
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- Essay Name : 1411.txt
- Uploader :
- Email Address : KapSigCub1@aol.com
- Language : English
- Subject : Education
- Title : Tales of a Pre-schooler
- Grade : 95%
- School System : University of Arkansas
- Country : U.S.
- Author Comments : this is a self essay, change location and names
- Teacher Comments : great desciptions through the eyes of a child
- Date : oct 96
- Site found at : writing class
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- ôHurry up, Kent, you donÆt want to be late for your first day of school,ö mom called as I was eating
- my blueberry muffin. I picked up my muffin and bag and headed toward her voice in the hall. I sure didnÆt
- want to miss any of my first day at ôHair-gee House,ö or Heritage House, as the adults called it.
- ôHair-gee Houseö was a former residence that was converted into a preschool and Kindergarten for
- 3, 4,and 5 year olds. The building, which seemed immense to me at the time, was white with a large porch.
- The side play yard was huge with play equipment of all types and great oak trees that produced delightful
- acorns. The acorns could be used for throwing, collecting, or cracking open. There were jungle gyms,
- swing sets, seesaws, and other toys, once painted in bright reds, blues, and yellows. I cherish the memories
- that I still reflect upon now and again.
- I remember being late for school a lot, probably because I was always in my own world and
- difficult for my mother to keep up with. SheÆd drop me of at the front door, and IÆd run up to the front, still
- holding half a muffin. Miss Virginia, a stately older lady with a deep, frightening voice would open the
- front door for me. All Southern children address women, without a care to the ladyÆs marital status or
- feminist views, ôMiss.ö ôWell, hello Kent!,ö sheÆd bellow, which only sent me racing for my class in the
- back of the school as fast as my little legs would carry me.
- As I entered the door to a room full of 15 hyperactive 3 year olds, the chemical smell of
- mimeographed paper filled the room. I still love the scent of that wet white paper with purple drawings. I
- still have a fondness for the fuzzy violet letters on slightly damp paper versus the crisp, dry Xerox copies of
- today. We were always warned not to touch the royal purple carbon copy that rested in the trash bin, lest we
- soil our hands. No kid could resist that temptation. We would always end up touching it, getting the ink
- smeared on hands, clothes, and any recently cleaned surface.
- I loved learning our alphabet in the morning. ôA,B,C,...ö was my favorite song in 1973, quickly
- replaced by Eric ClaptonÆs ôLay Down Sallyö the following year. The sing-songy melody makes it easy for
- children to pick up on and actually learn something. The song seemed to put me in a great mood as we
- sang the letters as loudly as all 3 year olds do. The letters were printed on bright cards with an object
- representing each of them. These cards were placed on the top of the walls around the room. Miss Bobette
- would then get out the ôfairyö, a flashlight with glitter all over it. SheÆd turn out the lights and weÆd yell out
- the letters in random order as the fairy illuminated each one. Wild with excitement from that, weÆd all march
- around the room singing the alphabet song.
- When it rained, weÆd gather around the window and look at the drops hit the pavement with little
- splashes. Casting aside all political correctness in 1976, Miss Bobette would say, ôThose are little Indians
- dancing outside.ö We screamed with delight, and then frowned upon realizing there would be no outside
- recess. There was a terrible snowstorm in Arkansas that year, so we stayed home a lot. But when the roads
- were safe enough to attend, weÆd watch her cut out beautiful, magical snowflakes. We tried our hand at
- snowflakes with less satisfactory results. Four-year-old class seemed to have a lot of hand-eye coordination.
- Everyone remembers learning to write with those thick pencils with a rubber ball on top.
- Art was my favorite time of the day. Going over to my basket and retrieving that huge box of
- crayons, I felt as if I were in heaven. Binney and Smith may not know the excitement that they create in
- children when they first open that box of 64 colors, but it is priceless. I would carefully open my box,
- inspect the crayons to make sure that they were in order, and smell that wonderful aroma of wax. I couldnÆt
- wait to use my palette of colors to create another masterpiece! I was obsessed with monkeys, bees, and any
- creature that flew. I would draw endless scribbles of these creatures. When the teacher asked us to explain
- the pictures we drew of what we wanted to be when we grew up, I proudly exclaimed ôA monkey with
- wings!ö I had just seen the ôWizard of Oz,ö and was enchanted with the outlandish beasts.
- Recess was another highlight of any childÆs day. Because it was a small school, with less than 50
- students, 3, 4 , and 5 year old classes took recesses at the same time. The Kindergartners or
- ôKiddergardnersö as we called them, were bigger and faster, so they would lay claim to they large play
- equipment first. Oh, the thrill of recess, after being seated for what seemed like hours on end! We ran and
- chased and chatted garble until we were exhausted before going back to class.
- I remember getting in trouble at school for the first time when I was four. I was angry at Heather
- Norsworthy for getting onto the swings before I did. To retaliate, I spit on her. This made her angry also,
- promptly running off to tell Miss Virginia. I knew that I had done something but I didnÆt know that it was
- bad until I heard my name called across the school yard. ôKENT!!!,ö she roared, ôCome here right now and
- apologize to Heather!ö I ran in the other direction to hide behind a tree. ôThereÆs no way this wicked witch
- can find me here,ö I mused. Boy, was I wrong. She snatched me up and took me to Heather where I
- apologized, received a stern lecture on the virtues of not spitting, and went home with a note pinned to my
- shirt. Oh those damned notes!
- In the 4-year old class, I remember learning to tie my shoes. We had boards with a picture of two
- shoes with real laces crossing in and out of the holes. We practiced for what seemed to be months on those
- boards. After many nights rehearsing with my parents, I was ready for the first test of many in my long
- academic career. I remember being very nervous as Miss Kay called my name. I anxiously left my desk and
- walked to her desk. I looked at the board and couldnÆt remember what to do. She helped me with the first
- laces, and left the other shoe to me. Proudly, I tied correctly the knot. I then yanked it apart with one jerk
- of the lace and beamed at my accomplishment. Her smile told me that I had done well. I walked back to my
- seat with a look of confidence on my face. I had done it!
- Because IÆm a sentimental person, I drive past Heritage House sometimes when I go back to
- England. The school is larger now because of additions, yet it looks much smaller than when I was a kid.
- The playground equipment, once so cheerful, has oxidized to pastels over the years. The kids playing in the
- yard have different faces, yet they are still the same kids that have always attended. ItÆs amazing to think
- that at one time, that school was my whole world. Life seemed to be so much simpler then. I had no
- responsibilities, no deadlines, no bills, not worries. When I was a child, my job was to play hard, and I was
- good at it. Now, IÆm about to graduate from college, and I live outside my parentÆs house. Perspective is
- truly subjective.
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