Lately I've been thinking a lot about grade school. I think it's because I'm about to start an elementary statistics class and I hate math. The reason I hate math has to do with a horrible math memory from kindergarten!!! Kindergarten was a particularly trying time for me. I was a storm in five year old form. Loud, somewhat destructive, always calling attention to myself because I was likely not listening or doing something I shouldn't be. I left a trail - whether it be of tears, toys or at kindergarten graduation, the petals from the flower corsage that Patty A's. mom had gotten for her (I had plucked them all off - she may have cried).
It seemed like I was always being put in the corner. My offenses included stealing from Chris M.'s plate at snack time, not sharing the big fat pink crayon, talking while we were supposed to be quietly coloring giraffes, talking while standing in line for the bathroom, talking while walking into church, talking during reading circle, talking in general. And hoarding the red strappy clogs from the dress up trunk - that was guaranteed corner time at least once every couple weeks. I loved those clogs. Sigh. But my most memorable kindergarten moment had nothing to do with me misbehaving. It had to do with me not being able to grasp the concept of zero during a math lesson.
I can see everything so clearly it is as if I stepped back in time. I was wearing red pants and a patchwork top, my hair in pigtails and I was sitting in a desk facing my favorite cinder block wall with a fat black crayon in my hand. And I was crying. I can see the worksheet on the desk. Who remembers purple mimeograph ink? I can still remember how it smelled, hot off the mimeograph machine. The problem was 6 + 0 = __. For whatever reason I could not get this concept. I remember sitting there while my teacher wrapped her hand around mine and wrote over and over again with that big fat black crayon 6,6,6,6; all the while saying the number over and over again.
I think a small part of me broke that day. Heck, I'm 42 years old and I still vividly remember that day and how I felt. More than anything I felt scared and ashamed. Every other time I was in the corner was a cake-walk compared to that time. Most likely because I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. It's funny, when I started writing this post I didn't intend it to go in this direction but here it is. I don't think it's a bad thing, it just is what it is. A memory, albeit one that really stuck with me and shaped me in some ways.
I start my stats class on Tuesday and honestly I'm really afraid and nervous. But I think it will be cathartic in some ways. It's time to show little Kelly that it's not that bad, it's just a class. And she can do it!
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