Looking at pictures, I can’t help but be disgusted at the godsawful outfit my mother put me in for my first day at Kindergarten. Primary blue sweater, primary blue skirt, neon frakking yellow stirrup leggings, and saddle shoes. I looked like the front cover of a Curious George book, or a Smurfburger sandwich when you add in the bright blonde hair.
Otherwise, my memories of Kindergarten don’t discriminate between days. I remember little things in vivid detail:
the time I was given the job of “teacher’s helper” – which meant it was my job to tie everyone’s shoes, because I was the only kid in the class that knew how to do it;
running like crazy from the kid who had poison ivy because we all thought it was a plague that would kill us all;
the first time I took a gender-discrimination stand because I wanted to play trucks, dammit, and I have a real kitchen to cook in at home, why would I want to mess with that pink plastic thing?