My kindergarten experience (or why I hate milk!)

I had my first ever personality conflict in Kindergarten. 

I need  things explained to me- I always have. Lol why? and how? and 'cause why? And what? And when? Are all huge in my vocabulary even at 47! (Thanks to everyone in my life for putting up with my incessant questions still!)

So please realize that on top of everything I am explaining- that I was quite a precocious child.

Mrs. J. was a huge southern woman of African American descent. (I was 5- and extremely small myself- she appeared just big to me.) She was a very maternal looking lady with a big smile and on first meeting her I thought I was going to absolutely love being in her class!

 How wrong that first impression was. How terribly, terribly wrong. 

She insisted on teaching us how to sing and sign "John Brown's Baby" which I remember practicing every day for the entire year. (I think we performed it in our graduation show for parents and siblings. I can still sing and sign the chorus- that's how much of an impression it made.) It isn't that difficult a song and it was really irritating.

 Singing was the first thing we did every day after hanging up our coats and our bags. We would sit in a circle and she would take attendance- tell us the agenda for the day- and we would sing. If you came in late she would stop the class from singing, say "Good Morning Miss Fenenbock! I'm so glad you could join us. Get set up and come over quickly!" It was said sugary for the adult escorting us, then she would be nasty for the rest of the half day class.

She also wanted us all to be included in everything- which is a good thing truthfully. But I had an issue in her class. I was so small- like not even 30lbs in kindergarten if my kids are any guide, which I was informed is pretty accurate.  I was unable to drink the half-pint of milk that was purchased by our parents to drink with the cookies for snack. After eating a full meal an hour before class- my stomach simply wasn't that big. 

So the battle began. Because in Mrs. J.'s class, there was no food wasted. Did you hear that? So because I could not finish my milk, I could not begin writing my numbers  when everyone else did. (A particularly torture laden punishment- especially when we could work on the number 5 in green crayon!!!) 

And there were comments. Now, mind you, I was liked well enough by the other kids in the class. But Mrs. J. used to hurry me up to drink the milk because the clean up monitor needed me done to finish their job. So the kids started to try to hurry me as well. 

Now I already knew I was supposed to be helpful by then.  So I would tell them I would do my desk- I would help them.  And it stopped them from rushing me. (I still hate to be rushed...) but when Mrs. J. discovered it she was livid. 

After months of this- I finally told my parents what was happening- and that was the beginning of the battle over the milk. Eventually the decision was made that my parents would not buy any more milk and the remaining milk I would store the open container in the fridge to drink the next day. It made me stand out but less than it had previously. At snack time the milk monitor would get all the milks and hand it out, including mine if there was no started one. If there was a started one I got it myself. 

 Sounds easy, right? Well remember that if we weren't on time to class she was unpleasant the rest of the day? So I was habitually late since I hated that song and I liked talking with the crossing guard. 

One day, it was a Monday. I don't know if it was after break or just a weekend. I went to look in the fridge to see if I had a milk started. I got in the teachers way. She queried me- I told her I was looking for my milk. Her answer has stayed with me my entire life since. "You STUPID chil'! You can't even remember if you have an open milk or not?!"

She yelled it so the entire class heard. It made me stand out and it made all of my efforts to help her by looking for my own milk null and void. No amount of helping ever worked to gain me a compliment from her.  It made kindergarten a nightmare. All I wanted was to participate and contribute. It is what every kid wants. And when you get a job you feel important. If I did enough good things I would eventually get assigned a job. (In reality as long as I wasn't tardy- we had a rotating chore chart but I wasn't able to understand it.)

By the way, Mrs. J. "done be retirin'" 5 years later. When I was informed about it, I clearly remember telling my Mom and I discussing that it was definitely "Six years too late."

I find now- 41 years later- that I learned a lot from Mrs. J.  I learned about flexibility, and about remaining calm. I also think she may have had some issue as she was so extremely rigid in her rules. She also had 18 kids around her for 3 hours twice a day- she was a very gifted woman. I know I could never have done that.

To this day I dislike plain white milk. Like don't put it in my eggs, and when making breaded chicken cutlets I do not dredge them through milk. I do use milk in Mac n cheese and recipes where you absolutely need it. I will pour a glass liberally to all who ask for it and will flavor it if anyone wants that.