SCHOOL

At four and a half years old, I was able to write my name. So my parents felt I was smart enough to go to school. Ordinarily, the school, which happened to be across the street from where I lived in Albany, New York, wanted to start the children at five years of age. However, somehow, my parents talked them into allowing me to start earlier. Throughout all my school years, I was usually the youngest person in class.

The first day I was to attend kindergarten, my mother took me. I was not too happy about going, so she introduced me to the teacher, a Miss Powers, I believe. Then my mother said she would stay outside the door to the classroom which had a diamond-shaped window for her to look through, but more importantly, for me to see that she was still there. So she left me in the classroom and I kept looking at the door to make sure she was still there. I guess I glanced away from the door, because the next time I looked, she was gone! I believe panic set in and there is no doubt that I started to cry. As I recall, there were other kindergartners who were crying along with me. Fortunately, I did not have this problem with my kids. (I wasn't the one who took them to school.) I'm sure I stopped crying eventually.


One day on the way home from school, a man with a pony and a camera stopped me and asked me where I lived. Not having been warned about this, I told him, "Right over there." Then he said, "How would you like your picture taken on the pony?" I said, "O.K." So he lifted me up, set me on the pony, and took my picture. I then went home, not saying anything to my parents about the picture. A few days later, the man appeared at our house door with the pictures of me on the pony. My mother was surprised, and asked me, "Did you tell this man that it was all right for him to take your picture on the pony?" I said, "Yes." My mother bought the picture, but after the man left, then I got the lesson, "Never talk to strangers!" Today, that lesson is drummed into children as soon as they are able to understand words.