20 years ago, I had just turned 5. I was excited about starting elementary school, about learning, and most of all, about growing up--becoming a "big kid." There's a reason people associate childhood with innocence, and part of that is probably the sheer amount of excitement that something so mundane as attending school is to a child. I was excited about getting my school supplies and finding out who my teacher would be. My parents would quiz me on my counting, reading, and other things that they test you on before they admit you in to kindergarten, and in my excitement, I would gladly answer. It was an exciting time for me as a child.
One of the most influential (and also one of the few) memories I have from that time occurred shortly before my 5th birthday. I was still 4 and I went to daycare/preschool the same way I had been since I was 6 weeks old. The preschool I attended was at a Methodist Church--or rather at the time the only Methodist Church--in my hometown. There were about 10, maybe 15, kids in my class (for those of you who didn't go to daycare or preschool, classes are created by age group, so my class was the 4 year old class). These same kids had been my classmates since we were babies; we were in dance together, we played Power Rangers together, we joined Girl Scouts together, and auditioned for children's theater together. These were my friends and it made sense... Until one of the girls in my class and I got into a heated debate over something that to this day, I have to admit I still don't understand.
