I went to a Montessori school from preschool through 1st grade (you're understanding why I'm so brilliant now aren't you?). And we had this huge play area/ farm area with animals at the back of the school, which was really an old house.
So I remember it was snowing (a once or twice a winter occurrence in the desert) and our teacher let us go outside to play in the snow. I headed for the swings with my friends Tawnya and Heidi. For some reason, Heidi fell out of the swing, or maybe she jumped, and got a bloody nose.
I can still remember the blood on the snow, how I felt terrified and disgusted and fascinated by it. How stark it was against the new, white powder.
I also had a torrid affair at Montessori School. Raul was in first grade and I was in kindergarten. And we were very much in love. He'd save a space for me at combined classes or lunch. We'd meet on the playground. There was this wooden tree-house type thing. You could climb the many steps and go up high to this veranda-type area. We'd go up there and lean on the railing and hold hands, overlooking the beautiful view of the playground and planning our future.
But our school only went to first grade and when Raul graduated, we broke up. Long distance relationships just never work.
Years later, in high school, I ran into Raul again. Needless to say my taste in men had changed quite a bit since kindergarten. I also went back to the school and that tree house was actually pretty low to the ground, not actually the high veranda I'd remembered.
Funny how that happens.
Actually, I was quite the slut at Montessori School. The first time I learned not to choose boys over friends was in first grade. This new boy, Neil, came to school and I just thought he was the cutest. He was the son of one of our teachers and he was just visiting for a week. He was in second grade too! I loved the older men back then. Plus he liked me!
I always ate lunch with my best friend Tawnya, but Neil asked me to eat lunch with him. So I ditched Tawnya for Neil.
Well of course I hurt Tawnya's feelings and that made me feel badly. I didn't want to hurt my friend or make her cry. So I said I was sorry and vowed never to ditch a friend for a boy again. And I haven't. Things didn't last long with Neil anyway, because he inevitably had to go back to his own school. See, ladies? Boys come and go but friendships are forever.
That is until KC came to our school. KC was also a first grader and every girl liked him. Every. One. Of. Us. We all fought over the poor guy. My mom loves to tell the story of when she came to pick me up from school one day and found three of us literally tearing the boy apart, each of us pulling on one of his limbs.
What can I say? We were a little boy crazy at the Montessori School.
We also got into a little trouble.
There was this spot behind the school that always, inexplicably, always had a puddle. Well this spot would ice over in winter and we'd all try to "ice skate" on it with our tennis shoes. Of course we always got in trouble for it, but we always kept trying. The lure was always too tempting.
Without getting into how awesome the school was (I would so put my future kids in Montessori school), we did some pretty cool things. Such as pet day. Every kid brought their own pets for the day (parents supervised) and I was so stoked to bring my dog Sammy.
My firefighter dad brought the fire engine once and the kids climbed all over it (I was very popular that week).
The school had farm animals too. Goats and chickens are what I remember most.
I got to school one day and the goat wasn't there. So I asked the teacher's aid what happened. She solemnly replied, "He passed." I was like, huh? So I asked my teacher. She told me he died. I was like oooooooooh, well I know what THAT means. Yeash.
Then there was this rooster. This mean ass rooster. So someone (I don't know who) gets the idea that if they can get this rooster out of its cage and play with it, it'll get nicer. Clearly this person knew shit about roosters.
Because everyone was scared of this mean ass rooster, my dad volunteers to tame the rooster (meaning my mom probably volunteered him). He keeps trying to get the rooster out and hold him but he keeps attacking my dad. I have a clear memory of my dad chasing this damn rooster around trying to catch him. I guess it was best when the rooster attacked, because then my dad would just grab its feet and shove him back in his cage.
I also had to call my dad to confirm this story and he remembers it the same. Neither of us remembers what happened to the rooster. We assume they just sold him. But I think one of the teachers took him home for dinner.
Funny the things you remember.
|I think this was a Valentine's Day picnic. I'm the one with the turquoise, red, and white sweater with white skirt.|