The Big School

My kindergarten class.

I'm in the middle row, last girl on your right wearing a peach and white dress.

I remember my mother walking me by the "big school" shortly before I started kindergarten. I stared at the mammoth building (it was mammoth to me at the time). I was frightened and excited. I don't remember anything about my actual first day of school. In fact, I only remember bits and pieces of my first few years at school, but I remember that day.

My son has seen the school many times, just as I had. I take him to the playground there quite frequently since it is within walking distance of our house. In fact, you can see the playground from my front yard. I can hear the loudspeaker making announcements over the intercom when I'm outside. Yet somehow, I think that he'll be looking at it in a new way after tomorrow, the same way I did on that day so many years ago. Tomorrow he will be visiting the school with the other preschoolers who will be attending his school this coming fall. I will be there. I will be registering him for kindergarten. That thought blows me away. My baby? Is it really time for kindergarten already? Preschool was enough of a shock to my system.