I was just thinking about being a happy
little child. I was thinking about what it was like to be a child and what
I remember with every little thing that comes together.
The very first thing I remember is standing outside of Parker Elementary. Although I have a very twisted memory of how I came to be and what happened next, I do remember a life--my life as a child--and now claiming other happy childhood experiences.
Kindergarten was a special year. I have very clear memories of being shuffled from one classroom to another for different activities. One room is huge and doesn't seem to have any chairs or desks in it, so we sit quietly on the dark brown hardwood floor to watch a movie.
Another
room, which was more typical of classroom, and where I spent most of my
time. There were little tables that we sat around. One day the
teacher was showing me how to write my name. I could not understand how
she knew my name was M. I know now, that she knew it "started" with
an M! But she showed me how to make the M and I was very happy.
Another time we were supposed to make Easter baskets out of shoe boxes. I swear that I didn't have one, but I went to a locker, I suppose it was mine, and got the box out. I remember doing this as if I were a robot and as if I were stealing someone else's shoe box. Maybe I did, and maybe another part of Myself put it there.
A room, which is rather small and claustrophobic, is where we all gather to sing and dance to the silly childhood songs: This Old Man he played two, he played nick-nack on my shoe..... There was a crooked man, who walked a crooked mile...... B-I-N-G-O and bingo was his name-O and one more about how the dog ate the cat, the cat ate the mouse.....
One time, in this small room, my teacher refused to let us leave unless we could tie our shoes. I didn't know how, so she showed me how to do the bunny trick, where the bunny hopes around a stump and goes under it. The first time I remembered this moment I felt flooded with shame that I didn't know how to tie my shoes at five years old. Quickly though, it dawned on me that I didn't wear shoes with laces in them: they were either buckle shoes or penny loafers. (This seems like such a small thing to feel shame over. However, I wasn't aware of any emotions or how they should feel. So while I was learning, I kept hitting upon the small things that I had learned to tuck away at an early age.)
When I moved onto first grade I went to a Catholic school. My teacher was not a nun; she was a normal woman. The classroom was bright and it feels as though the sun is always shining in. I sat in the middle of the row on the right side of the class, braiding the hair of a girl who sat in front of me. I catch my self imagining that I was the one that had long, silky hair and someone was braiding it.
Second grade was a traumatic year for Myself. Though my memory is of waiting in line at the main school house to get a jump rope or a ball to play two-square, and of having a special lunch. Back in the mid-sixties parents packed lunches, though on special occasions there was a hotdog lunch. Everyone brought a nickel or so and we all got to eat together in a really big room. I hate hotdogs, but I cherish the memory of that simple hotdog lunch.
The best thing that happened in second grade was having a tutor name Adrianne. She was the most beautiful girl. She had so much patience and was so kind. Without her I would not have learned to read and go onto third grade. I can remember sitting in the classroom, just she and I. I can remember the smell. It was a new smell, different than how it smelled during the school year. On the last day of tutoring she gave me her photo, making me feel as if I were the most special kid on earth--I still feel that special ness when I think of her.
Mother, I think, made it up to me--having
to be tutored, by enrolling me in piano lessons. 
The room was dark, cold
and gloomy and there were rows upon rows of little pianos that only had about 25
keys. All
of us little students played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star over and over on
them. I doubt I practiced even though we had a
baby grand in the living room. 
The only thing that piano seemed good for
was taking naps under it. Oh,
yes, I also remember that I had a plastic life-ring.... the thing you blow up
and put around your waist when you are swimming. It got a hole in it, so I
sat under that piano and sewed a patch on it.
One time my mother sent me to the dime store to pick up a bar of soap. It was only three blocks and I kept telling myself what mother said. Life Boy, Life Boy, Life Boy or was that Safe Guard. Oh boy. I told the man I needed Life Guard soap. He looked at me in a quizzical way, questioned me and then called mother. What was it she wanted? I don't know, I was handed a bar of soap and sent on my way.
I think about my good little memories and the ones that keep mounting and I find peace that there always was and will be hope and happiness.