I ran away from school on the first day of First Grade. Even though I had a nice, new white dress with a poufy slip to wear, and nice, new black Mary Jane’s to walk in, and a cute, older (2nd grade) boy to walk with - I didn't want to go to school. I had never been to day care, or preschool, or kindergarten. I had never been in camps or clubs or organized sports. I had simply grown up in a house with mom, dad and brother, and played with a few pals who lived on my street, and read by myself or watched TV with my family. I was ill prepared for the structure, bustle, crowds, noise and especially the rules of public education. Why stand in line? Why sit at an assigned (uncomfortable) desk? Why not talk when I wanted to talk? Why not eat when I wanted? Why move only when a bell said move? I didn't understand any of it. I didn't like any of it. So when that bell said move out to recess - I moved; out, across the field, over the fence and up into a tree. I nestled into the branches of an old olive tree and watched the clouds make puppies and ships. I stayed there a good, long time, planning never to return to school.
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