Today always brings a wistful melancholy.
Forty years later. I still remember.
I was in kindergarten. My friend Jeannie was in one class. I was in the other. We walked to and from school together every day. But once we reached the building, we took off our coats and hats and gloves and boots and put on our school shoes. She went to her class and I went to mine. We saw each other at recess and at “Morning Time.”
At Morning Time, the two classes sat together in the common area between the two classrooms. We sang a song. We talked about which day of the week it was. And if the date was significant in some way.
First Day of Spring.
Jeannie and I were sitting next to each other. Like we always did during Morning Time. It was cold outside. Still snow on the ground. I was wearing my favorite dress. A soft, grey wool sweater dress with a pink polka dot border at the bottom. It twirled. A little. And I had on tights. And little grey boots. The boots click-clacked when I walked. I felt grown-up. Pretty.
It was the first day of spring. And it was still very cold. But Jeannie was wearing a short sleeved white dress with little blue and yellow flowers all over. Her dress really twirled. It had a ruffle at the bottom and at the sleeves. She was wearing white tights and shiny patent leather shoes. She felt grown-up and pretty.
Mrs. Kay, Jeannie’s teacher, was leading the group. She asked us about spring. And the new life and colors it brings. She asked everyone who was wearing pretty spring colors to stand up.
I looked down at my pretty, pink polka dots and smiled. Jeannie and I clasped hands and stood up together.
Mrs. Kay talked about each of the colors she saw and when she got to me she said, “Jane, sit down, please. You’re not wearing spring colors today.”
“But Mrs. Kay….I’m wearing pink polka dots.”
“No, Sweetie. Your dress is grey.”
All she could see was the grey. All I knew was that my favorite soft, grey wool dress with pink polka dots was now ugly and itchy.
I plopped down as I heard Mrs. Kay say, “Now everyone look at Jeannie’s dress. White with those pretty blue and yellow flowers! What a wonderful celebration of spring!”
I didn’t hear much after that. My grey dress was no longer my favorite. One sentence took that all away.
………..
To recognize the First Day of Spring today, I wore my favorite grey cardigan. With a pale, pink blouse underneath.
In honor of Mrs. Kay.
I do that quite often now. For the past 20 years, or so, I wear a combination of grey and pink on the First Day of Spring. My adult self, showing my 5-year-old self that grey and pink can feel like spring. It’s an attitude. It’s from within.
And words will not diminish me anymore.
Good for you! I pity the people that can only see one thing. And love that you took what she said and turned it around.
You rock on with your grey & pink self! You are absolutely right. Attitude means everything!
Love grey and pink. Glad you still do! Miss Kay obviously had no sense of fashion.
What kind of kindergarten teacher does something like that? She sounds horrible; crushing the spirit of a five-year-old.
I love your last line. Very powerful. I might have to quote you one day.
I love grey and pink. Very classy. Oh, if only people would realise the damage their words could do! 🙂
This made me cry. And then I got mad. What the heck is wrong with adults…and TEACHERS? To say that to any kid happy and brave enough to stand up and show her version of spring is reprehensible. Our spring in Michigan has plenty of grey, and we’re happy to have the snow get that color because it means we’re almost there! I love that you overcame that kind of adult stupidity. Enjoy your spring my friend.
Thanks, everyone, for your sweet words. And Dawn, just wanted to share….this incident actually happened while I was in elementary school…in Michigan.
Well Darn. Shouldn’t happen anywhere, but I don’t want to own it here! 🙂
Wow that was one crap teacher! Happy Spring to you!
Boy. Some teachers don’t realize the hurtful things they say which they don’t give a second thought to, and which we remember years later.