In 1986, I suffered two of the greatest traumas of my young life.
We'll get to the birth of my parents' other child eventually, but let's
focus on one hardship at a time. On a sunny September day, just shy of
my fourth birthday, my mum, bless her heart, dropped me off at E & R
Church for my first day of some bizarre thing called preschool. I
still haven't forgiven her.
I hated--hated!--preschool.
It was so noisy! And there were so many people! And I was forced to
do things I didn't want to do at times I didn't want to do them.
(Nothing inappropriate or anything, we're not heading into that territory and
if you're considering the preschool at the E & R Church, I'm sure
it was a lovely program, at least back in 1986, it just wasn't for me.)
Also, since my name starts with K and we were seated alphabetically, my
mat was next to that of a girl named Jaime. Jaime stunk. I understand
it probably wasn't her fault, but it wasn't mine either. My four year
old self had never been so violated, not even three months prior when my
parents brought home that screaming lump of flesh and told me I had to
love it because I was a big sister now. But again, that's for another
time.
When you're four and hate noise and stickiness
and being touched and other people's routines, preschool is some special
version of hell. I don't even know that I can handle that now at 31.
Aside from all the shrieking, toy taking, and hand holding, one thing
from preschool really stands out to me: The Farmer in the Dell. That
was the first of a long list of times I got in trouble in school for
being "difficult."
I was chosen to be the cat. I
didn't want to be the cat. I don't remember the specific conversation
that followed, but it went along the lines of the teacher telling me
that's how the game was played and ended with me curled up in tears
under a pile of cardboard bricks, sucking my thumb. I do remember the
conversation I had with my mother after school that day.
KP: I didn't want to be the cat.
Mum: Why didn't you want to be the cat?
KP: I wanted to be the cheese.
Mum: You didn't get to be the cheese either.
KP: I still got to stand alone.
I'm
not sure my mum had anything more to say after that, but I'm certain
something in that chat laid the groundwork for the next twenty-seven
years of my life. I just want to be the cheese, but someone's always
trying to force me to be the cat. I don't want to be the cat.
I just want to be the cheese.
