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Echo Fall 2016
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A Kindergarten Camaraderie Emily LaLiberte
There was always a considerable amount of tedium in my life when I spent my days at kindergarten, which was five days out of seven of the week. Time seemed to loop itself around the clock hands slowly, as if to make a statement as I would sit alone, organizing a Barbie Dream House or making “potions” out of an-
ything I could lay my fingers upon; whether it be glue, finger paints, or rocks. If my little opening scene from Macbeth didn’t make the other children want to become friends with me, then my abnormal hair color was certainly a turn off. Due to my Dutch lineage I, unfortunately, carried with me a pale complexion, consisted of paper white skin and creamy egg-shell tufts that sat upon my head. In addition to this, I had a strong, aggressive will for fighting whenever someone decided to jeer at my ashen attributes. This surprisingly happened a lot and I tended to get teased mercilessly for looking like a blank sheet of paper. I flipped children off swings, threw woodchips and tantrums, and had refused to conform to the teacher’s not so polite requests, landing me in a rough spot for making friends and my parents pleased.
They, my multiple teachers, had tried to swerve my behaviors from experimenting with periods of sweets prohibition to limiting my time in craft time, which was absolute blasphemy in the eyes of a child; craft time being worshipped like it was by many of the ankle-biters. And in a miniscule act of rebellion, I flung my shoes off my feet and pranced about the playground, rain hitting my bare ties and pooling down past them to form ant lakes under my feet. My pink, tattered backpack bounced on my shoulders as I dashed about, my feet trying to meet up with where my mind had free range. My eyes danced about the large expanse of playground equipment as my feet encountered the rough tarmac below me. My stormy eyes settled on the sandy head of a fellow kindergartener who appeared good-natured, his oversized khaki shorts and his smitten look had given me that impression. He also struck me as the sort who preferred to be alone, giving me an advantage, since he was not in a group where I could stick out like a sore thumb. I trotted over to where he sat in a clubhouse, gazing over the land much like a feline spectating the lay of its home. He must have seen me coming over to meet him, for he had a confused look in his eyes that was then replaced by a small, innocent smirk. I dashed up the ladder, my sugar high from this morning’s chocolate pancakes getting the better of me. The blonde seemed a bit perturbed by my actions, but decided to let it go as his voice rang out to greet
Cosmic Connection Sarah Houssian
