My First Day of School

My First Day of School



Oh, how I remember most of it well. At least now I can look back and laugh, to a degree. But I felt sorry for my poor mother chasing me for what felt like a mile at 5 years old. Well, Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

It was August of 1969, and I was all of five and a quarter years old. My mother was a teacher of 3rd and 4th grade children in a small Kansas town. Both grades were in the same room, and she taught many of my older cousins. She met my father, got married, and started a family. I'm certain this helped her out for my fateful first day of school in Kindergarten and her being a track star. (Not really, but that lady sure could run.)

I remember Mom telling me repeatedly that I was going to go to the end of the driveway, wait on the bus, get on, and see all my friends. It was going to be so great, and I would learn so much! For some reason, all in my head, of course. Something I constructed up was this feeling that something bad was going to happen.

We had a pleasant lunch, and she was reminding me to put on my good clothes for school as soon as I finished eating. Hearing this, I started to eat slower and goofing off, acting silly. I could usually get a laugh out of good ole Mom. Nope, not this day because she was acting different. This calm and meek woman was getting sterner. I don't remember arguing with her, just not wanting to go because something very bad or worse was going to happen today. I crawled off the chair, and she got up as well. Next thing you know, I'm running from my mother around the table, trying to escape this deadly wrath that awaits me. Imagine 4 squares inside of one large square. This was the basic floor plan of the main floor to our two story house with a basement. My parents' bedroom was the only room with two doors as this would later prove to be my downfall. After several trips around our large dining room table, I took off for the living room. Next was my parents' bedroom that led to the kitchen and back to the dining room. I was doing fine until she started closing the doors to the bedroom to slow me down. Tears streaming and flying, as was I with Mom right on my heels.

After what seemed 4 or 5 complete laps, she caught me in the living room and never let me go. I was dressed, given my school supplies, and told to go to the end of the driveway and wait for the bus that would be here soon. I went outside of the house in hysterics at this point. My mother was trying to reassure me that it's going to be fine, and I'd have fun. Humph! Crying and not being able to see at this point, I fell off the front porch and skinned my knee. Now in extreme pain from the concrete rash I had self-inflicted, I had to get cleaned up quickly. She rubbed something that burned me again to disinfect my big scrape. I was screaming and crying in great shrills and high piercing decibels. It was a good thing we lived in the country. Otherwise known as Rural Route 1 back then, which was our mailing address. (Don't hear that phrase anymore.)

As she drug me by the hand to the end of the twenty-five yard driveway, still bawling and not wanting to get on the bus, I could see the big yellow bus coming down the road with Mr. Charles Scheer who was our bus driver. Charlie opened up the door for me to climb aboard. He had a pretty good laugh at me and reassured my Mom I'd be taken care of. She thanked him and off we went. It didn't resemble Forrest Gump's first day at all! We made our 10-15 minute drive to school picking up several more classmates. I remember a few faces from church, but, nevertheless, was worn out. I laid my head down on the seat of the bus drifting off at a rapid rate. When all the kids had gotten off, Mr. Scheer and Mrs. Disberger, my kind Kindergarten teacher, were helping me wake up. She helped me gather my things, talking very softly to me as she escorted me off the bus and cross the parking lot to school. I staggered still half asleep into school not realizing anything that was happening.

Thus, what I had thought all along had come true. The awful thing that happened was I was tardy on my first day of school and don't remember a thing! I remember a great nap on the bus, but don't remember being inside of school at all. My mother was correct all along. The 2nd day went much smoother, and still to this day I have no reason as to why I conjured up all these terrible images freaking myself out.

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