Brandon

            If you didn't go to pre-school, then kindergarten can be a fairly cruel awakening.  That moment when you realize that your parent has left you with a strange (but oddly sweet) adult and a bunch of hyper-active children (roughly the same age as you) that probably contain more germs than that dirt you were eating earlier, can be very traumatizing for a little five year old.

            Then again…    

            Pre-school didn't really help.  I still cried my eyes out when my mom started to walk away leaving me standing at the door of my kindergarten classroom with my teacher's hands firmly placed on my shoulder.  (Making sure I didn't run away, no doubt).  My only consolation at that time was that I knew my older sister's first grade classroom was only three (maybe four) doors down from me and at any given moment (when my teacher wasn't looking, of course) I could run to her for anything.  

            Of course, given the type of child I was, I knew I would never have left the classroom and risk getting in trouble with an adult…especially a teacher.  (Years later my little sister proved me wrong by ditching her second grade class to spend time with mine and my older sister's combined fifth/sixth grade class.  I don't think she even got in trouble for that!  Something about the rest of the second graders being mean to her.  Lucky bastard…).  So I ended up being stuck in a classroom with home-made glue (for the hungry children) and a bunch of beat up toys.  Not that I'm really complaining.  I eventually sucked it up and began to enjoy this happy, carefree environment.

            It helped that I became friends with one of the most adorable (well in my opinion) boys in the classroom.

            Brandon.