"Kindergarten". Where in theee hell did that word come from? I'd better not dwell for too long on the subject, because we're steamrolling straight into...
1975.
This is, of course, the year I entered kindergarten, thus kickstarting my 6 year student career at Kennedy School, which was about 1/2 a block from my house. I think that I remember my first day, although it could be any old, random day, but I was wearing my hooded Cookie Monster sweatshirt. Yeah, I was hardcore, even back then.
Inside the doors off the playground was the coatroom containing one of those old sinks that I seem to remember being littered in locker rooms everywhere: They're round, about 3 feet in diameter, and you step on a pedal to get the water to spurt out of a column in the center. Once you made it past that dinosaur, you found yourself in Ms. Carson's classroom. She was damn sweet, I must say.
Most of my days were spent coloring and watching filmstrips - oh, and naptime. God, I'd kill for naptime now. Everyone was required to bring their own mat, so 99% of the kids had those vinyl gym mats, the red and blue ones, but Rusty? Whoooooa no. No no no no. My mom gave me foam carpet padding, seafoam green if I'm remembering correctly, and I imagine I am because it sucked SO BAD to not fit in (watch this theme continue and escalate throughout my life).
Besides these harsh, trying daily events, there was also "play time" (WTF?!) once you finished your projects. You had two choices: Either work with cardboard building blocks or play in the life sized dollhouse in the corner. Jimmy Contechesi, once rumored to be the son of a mafia member, would scribble into his coloring book furiously, chanting, "Gotta get that dollhouse, dollhouse!" Actually, it was a fairly catchy rhythm. The kid had talent.
I liked school okay, I mean, it was a 7 minute walk from home and lasted half of a day. And did I mention nap time?
1975.
This is, of course, the year I entered kindergarten, thus kickstarting my 6 year student career at Kennedy School, which was about 1/2 a block from my house. I think that I remember my first day, although it could be any old, random day, but I was wearing my hooded Cookie Monster sweatshirt. Yeah, I was hardcore, even back then.
Inside the doors off the playground was the coatroom containing one of those old sinks that I seem to remember being littered in locker rooms everywhere: They're round, about 3 feet in diameter, and you step on a pedal to get the water to spurt out of a column in the center. Once you made it past that dinosaur, you found yourself in Ms. Carson's classroom. She was damn sweet, I must say.
Most of my days were spent coloring and watching filmstrips - oh, and naptime. God, I'd kill for naptime now. Everyone was required to bring their own mat, so 99% of the kids had those vinyl gym mats, the red and blue ones, but Rusty? Whoooooa no. No no no no. My mom gave me foam carpet padding, seafoam green if I'm remembering correctly, and I imagine I am because it sucked SO BAD to not fit in (watch this theme continue and escalate throughout my life).
Besides these harsh, trying daily events, there was also "play time" (WTF?!) once you finished your projects. You had two choices: Either work with cardboard building blocks or play in the life sized dollhouse in the corner. Jimmy Contechesi, once rumored to be the son of a mafia member, would scribble into his coloring book furiously, chanting, "Gotta get that dollhouse, dollhouse!" Actually, it was a fairly catchy rhythm. The kid had talent.
I liked school okay, I mean, it was a 7 minute walk from home and lasted half of a day. And did I mention nap time?
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