It might seem strange to some, that I can remember a moment that happened almost 28 years ago so clearly. The last time I tried to write about my childhood, it came all rambling (pre-rilatin), so this is a new attempt at writing about my schooling.

I have two elder sisters and one of them went to the school in my town. I wanted to go with her. I was bored at home. I wanted to learn. I wanted to be with her. I already started to ask myself questions like the letter “U” and wondered what it was. I clearly remember me saying it over and over questioning what it was and how it could be used. I remember lying on my parents bed, next to my sleeping mom and making the sound over and over again in a questioning manner. I wanted to learn.

I once asked my mom, while she was on the toilet, if I could go with my sister to school. I really, really wanted to learn. My mom told me, that if I could go potty, I could go to school. I know that I had a blue bear potty.

Mine was light blue though. Same shape. I ran over to it, sat down and went potty, and after that day, only had a few more accidents. I was clean and could go to school.

I remember the smell and how it looked, although the school itself is completely changed and the kindergarten teachers I had have been retired since, I still remember my first 3 years.

I remember miss Mia, and the chocolate milk she gave me. The overwhelm of the lunch hall. The tupperware bowl (orange or cyan, depending on the day). I remember the bread with chocolate pasta between them, or jelly made from pears.

I remember the bullying. Most of the people I was with in that class, I was still with in elementary school (which stops here at 12). I remember the bullying. I remember being constantly sick. I couldn’t go swimming with the rest because I was constantly having troubles with my lungs (and my mom smoking like a chimney around me didn’t help me either).

Kindergarten was a mess, but I remember one girl. I remember her clearly, as I have seen her only a few more times, but she was my lightbeacon in kindergarten. I have never expressed this sentiment to her, and probably ever will.

I know that I had a good time with teachers and only a few moments really stand out to me. Only a few people I really remember, that I can conciously recall, most people, if I meet them in the streets, I will recognize them as being in kindergarten with me. I have a very good visual memory of it.

I remember that I was bullied a lot, even in kindergarten. My parents were poor and most of the kids in my school were middle-class or just plain rich.

I don’t remember meltdown. I do remember going mute sometimes. I hardly spoke. I was much on my own. I loved the story time and still remember the story our teacher used to read to us. I still remember a classtrip involving flowers and candy and a story about gnomes. I can still see the visuals.

I remember that during a school-recital, I was dressed as a monkey and we all got a banana. We weren’t allowed to eat it, but I did. I remember that I didn’t want to give the monkey tail back. I really liked that tail. I really liked being a monkey. But I wasn’t allowed to keep it. Not all was bad during this time, but a lot was. My elementary school was worse though, but more on this in a later article.