30 in 30: Year 6

1994

Dear Little One,

Oh boy is this a special year.  Bill Clinton is in his 2nd year as president, Nelson Mandela is sworn in as President of South Africa, The Lion King is released in theatres (you see it on the big screen, and this also becomes the first time you see people crying during a movie, which is a totally foreign subject to you now, but will become waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay relevant down the line), and Jeff Bezos starts this teeny tiny little company called Amazon - like that's ever going to take off.

And, and, this is the first year that you start *real* school.  So long pre-school, hello kindergarten.  Another year, another slew of weird seminal life experiences that seem to mold you in totally bonkers ways.  Your raw brattiness from ages 3-5 seem to have waned a little, and you're starting to be a little more conscientious of the world... sort of.  Relatively, speaking, I guess. You're loud and have got no cap on your temper, you've got no problem saying what's on your mind (in only the way at 6-year-old can), and rules (particularly those concerning language and etiquette) seem totally arbitrary and ignorable.  But, you're also surprisingly ladylike, polite, and courteous, and despite your total regard for using inappropriate language, you are weirdly particular about following rules about order and silence. 

Kindergarten really is a playground for your creativity.  You get to play with crafts and musical instruments, draw, read, and even carve the world's ugliest jack-o-lantern.  You'll meet some really lovely people, like Lisle, who starts out as being a little bossy, but turns into one of your closest chums for the next year and a few months before she moves away.  Through her, you'll learn that the highest form of praise is imitation. Collin and David, who remind you that there's nothing wrong with unbridled joy from time to time.

This is also the year that you learn that you are forgettable, and that sometimes you have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps. 

You see, little one, you and three classmates going to be sent to the library to pick up some books.  The library is a little bit of a distance from your classroom, and between the classroom and the library is a stairwell with two heavy doors.  Whether it's because you're just slow, or because you had to tie your shoe, or maybe the rest of them were racing, you're going to be left behind, and when that happens, your finger is going to get trapped in one of the doors. 

And it hurts.  A lot.

You're going to cry and shout for help, but no one is going to hear.  Not a teacher, not another student.  You'll wonder how long it will take the others to realize that you are missing.  They don't.

You'll fall silent when you realize that it's just you.

And then, you'll wipe the tears away, and with a little sniffle, you'll pull the door open by yourself.  Your classmates haven't noticed your disappearance, and they don't understand why you are quiet and upset when you walk back downstairs.

More things than just your finger will hurt, little one.

And I wish that this didn't effect the way that it will.  Children lack empathy and caring, and nothing that happened was your fault.  But remember, that day you will have learned something important:  sometimes the only one who can get you out of a situation is yourself. and you'll have passed that test, young one. 

Chin up until tomorrow, little one.  It'll all be ok.

Hearts and kisses,
You.