My First Day of Kindergarten

By Frederick Walton

The other day, while taking a writing course, my assignment was to write about my first day of Kindergarten. I only had 15 minutes to think back 60 years and pull some memories from the cobwebs of my mind.

Ricky Walton, Circa October 1963

The bright orange school bus stirred up a cloud of crispy brown, yellow and red leaves as it made its way through the early morning sunshine toward the waiting school children. The kids, of  all ages, were dressed in squeaky new shoes and brand new, stiffly starched plaid shirts and fitted trousers with sharp creases. A week ago these same kids were playing army in dirty jeans or laying on the ground wearing nothing but shorts, their bare feet dangling from crossed legs. Bare shirtless backs itchy from the grass and sunburned faces shaded by brown arms as they gazed at the white fluffy clouds floating overhead in the humid afternoon sky.

Today, September 4, 1963, there was a breath of chilled air on the morning breeze as a puff of wind blew a colorful cascade of leaves swirling. The telephone pole across the street sported a new poster of a serious looking man in glasses running for local office. It covered the tattered remains of the summer carnivals and markets advertised in the preceding months.  

As the children noisily queued to get on the bus they realized that summer vacation was over and the grand adventure of school was just beginning. I was one of those kids and today was my first day of kindergarten. For the last several years I wondered where the big kids all disappeared to after a busy summer of bike riding, games of tag and swimming parties. Now I was finally joining them. I was about to find out exactly what school was.

The bus pulled into a circular driveway, parking behind a line of idling buses already there, disgorging their cargos of excited children. The door swung open with a swoosh in a way I had never seen before. It was totally unlike the doors on dad’s station wagon. The kids all stood in unison and crowded into the bus aisle sweeping me along as we exited. The smell of brand new clothing and freshly washed hair filled my nose. They seemed to know what to do, so I followed along. We entered the large modern building through multiple glass doors that stretched across the front. This was another novelty for me since most buildings I had been to only had a single door. Even our church only had a pair of doors and was nearly as large. Once we entered, the kids scrambled in all directions, splitting up and streaming away to who knew where, leaving me panicked for a moment. It was almost like the beginning of the familiar game of hide and seek, and I was IT! 

Some nice ladies started gathering us wide-eyed strays. I had never seen them before, but somehow they knew my name and herded us into a little group. There was another boy from my neighborhood named Brad. We were friends, but every other frightened little face was new to me. Among the group were a bunch of girls. Yuck! Why did they have to show up to ruin our adventure?

Miss Teacher introduced herself and led us down the hall to our classroom. There was a tall wooden door, with a window in it! Another novelty. All the doors in our house were solid wood. Next to the door was a large window, but it didn’t look into the class. It was a show case, covered in colored paper, with the word WELCOME spelled out in colorful letters. Of course I could’t read yet, so the word was meaningless, but the large construction paper tree sprouting multicolor leaves was pretty amazing. There was nothing like that at our house, but all the classroom had one outside each door. Later we would beg to be picked to help Miss Teacher decorate the window with whatever we were learning. 

We entered the brightly lit class room. The front wall was covered by a large Blackboard. Imagine that, a wall that was meant to be drawn on. How novel. Adjacent to it was an entire wall of windows that looked out on a large playing field. Oddly there were no curtains on the windows. As time passed we would stare out those windows wishing we were outside instead of trapped in school.

This classroom was unlike any room I had ever visited. There were no couches, chairs or  a television like most living rooms had, although there was a piano in one corner. There were no beds or dressers like a normal bedroom, although there seemed to be a stack of tiny mattresses in another corner. Later we would each get one to lay down on during nap time. 

There was a large desk for Miss teacher in the front of the room and rows of little desks arrayed in front of her desk. She motioned toward them and told us to take a seat. I choose one close to Brad and as far away from the girls as I could get. Once we settled into our seats the teacher introduced herself and welcomed us. She went through some of the rules and then settled into her own chair to call the roll. She called the name of each child, who was to respond with “here”.

The names sounded funny to my ear, like: Michael Christopher, Barbara Ann, James Michael, or Harold William. Later they were simply Mikey, Barb, Jimmy and Billy.

Rick's Kindergarden Class
Rick is on the teachers Right. Miss Teacher looks like she already has a big headache

The teacher called out Bradley Paul and I was surprised when my friend Brad said “here”. Bradley? Paul? Then a little while later she called out Frederick Erwin. It took me a moment to realize that she meant me, Ricky. Frederick Erwin was my formal name, but no one called me that, I was Rick, my Dad was Fred, so was my grandfather.  I suddenly realized how confusing it must have been with all those Freds in one family. No wonder they called me Ricky. 

“Frederick Erwin” the teacher said again, cutting through my momentary daze. “Here”, I weakly replied, as the nearby children giggled. “But my name is actually Rick” I explained to more giggles. The teacher looked annoyed and made a note in her book. All the strange faces were staring at me as I squirmed in my seat. 

I don’t remember much else from that first day, but a few moments stick in my mind even sixty years later. At some point we had to give the teacher the shiny nickel our mother had given us and we each got a small carton of milk. She taught us how to fold back the cardboard corners to create a spout, just like the big carton at home in the refrigerator. The one we weren’t allowed to touch! We put a straw in it and drank the whole carton. I didn’t have to share it with my brothers. Everyone had their own.

I remember gathering around the piano and singing songs. I remember the teacher pulling down the shades so the room became dark as we laid on our little mattresses to take a nap. The weird thing was there was no pillow and no blanket. They sure did things differently at this house!

In the back of the room was a closed door. The teacher called it a “restroom” and asked us if anyone needed help going to the restroom. More confusion. I had no idea what a restroom was. During the day some of the kids raised their hands asking to use the restroom. They slipped through the door closing it behind them. When they exited I could hear a toilet flushing and the teacher asked each kid if they washed their hands. It suddenly dawned on me that a restroom was a bathroom. I started to wonder what it was like and found myself raising my hand. I opened the door, switched on the light and closed the door behind me. I was right, it was a bathroom, except there was no bathtub, just a toilet and a sink. weird. I turned around, curiosity satisfied and opened the door. Every face turned my way and the teacher said don’t forget to flush and wash your hands. I stood there dumbfounded for a second. Should I try to tell her I was just looking? Turning as red as the autumn leaves, I turned around and flushed then ran my hands under the faucet, before returning to my seat as the other children giggled.

I was beginning to get tired of being the center of attention when a bell rang and it was time to leave. The teacher stood at the door as we exited, smiling and saying goodby to each of us by our name. “Goodbye Michael”. “Goodby Barbara”. “Goodbye Frederick”.

I got on the bus, glad that school was over and ready to get out of these pinching shoes and stiff clothes. The afternoon was  warm and summer seemed like it was back. I longed to get into my shorts and go play in my sandbox. I wondered what my brothers had been doing all day. I had a lot to tell them now that I was a big kid.

Mom and the other ladies from the neighborhood stood in a gaggle chatting as the bus pulled up and we got off. She wanted to hear all about my first day as we walked home. I told her about the school, riding on the bus, the funny bus door, the huge crowd of kids, my very own desk and my very own carton of milk. I explained that next time she needed a carton of milk opened I knew how to do it now. I asked her why the teacher called me Frederick, even after I told her my name is Rick. I told her about the classroom, writing on the black wall, windows with no curtains covered by shades that rolled up and down. The beds had no blankets or pillows and the bathroom had no bathtub. What a strange place. I was glad that I went and saw what it was like. Now I knew where the big kids went after the summer and it was no longer a mystery.

Mom smiled as I went on and on excitedly talking about my day.

“What will you learn tomorrow?” asked mom as we turned into our driveway. 

“Tomorrow”? “You mean I have to go back”? 

This day was exhausting enough. It was going to be a very long time until next summer!