My Unread Bible On my first day of kindergarten my mother took me only inside the door to the classroom. We stood together for a moment and I hesitated before going farther. Ahead of us was the crying table whose purpose I didn’t understand until some hapless child was abandoned there a few days later. My mother averted her gaze. Her unwavering bite-the-bullet principles pervaded her child-rearing.
Thanks so much for this comment, and yes, it was you I sat next to that first day. Retention drills and Crayola crayons indeed. As to your reading to your brothers, I knew nothing of that, but I can picture the seriousness with which you would have subjected them to the experience. Glad to have known you all of these years.
What a remarkable memory you have! I forgot all about the bible being read to us in kindergarten and have no memory of Miss Rosenfeld's cropped hair or plaid skirts. Of course I remember being that little girl who shushed you, but I don't remember the slap. My most vivid memory of kindergarten is the oft visited vision of a certain B.B. shuffling out of the bathroom with his drawers around his ankles. Remember the Retention drills and sitting silently on the floor against the hallway walls? That and the tiresome lights out nap time lying on the classroom tables surrounded by the smell of Crayola crayons, school paste and the barely audible slow tick of the second hand on the big round clock on the wall marching around its circle until lights on.
I did have my own bible from a young age, delivered to me by the scary skinny spectacled woman from the church up the street as an enticement to go to Sunday School. It remained unopened until several Sundays in my third grade year when I forced my two brothers to sit silently locked in my bedroom in order to listen to me reading THE BIBLE out loud. Though I was sure that was where my father was headed, I wasn't about to have us all doomed to an eternity in hell.
Thanks so much for this comment, and yes, it was you I sat next to that first day. Retention drills and Crayola crayons indeed. As to your reading to your brothers, I knew nothing of that, but I can picture the seriousness with which you would have subjected them to the experience. Glad to have known you all of these years.
What a remarkable memory you have! I forgot all about the bible being read to us in kindergarten and have no memory of Miss Rosenfeld's cropped hair or plaid skirts. Of course I remember being that little girl who shushed you, but I don't remember the slap. My most vivid memory of kindergarten is the oft visited vision of a certain B.B. shuffling out of the bathroom with his drawers around his ankles. Remember the Retention drills and sitting silently on the floor against the hallway walls? That and the tiresome lights out nap time lying on the classroom tables surrounded by the smell of Crayola crayons, school paste and the barely audible slow tick of the second hand on the big round clock on the wall marching around its circle until lights on.
I did have my own bible from a young age, delivered to me by the scary skinny spectacled woman from the church up the street as an enticement to go to Sunday School. It remained unopened until several Sundays in my third grade year when I forced my two brothers to sit silently locked in my bedroom in order to listen to me reading THE BIBLE out loud. Though I was sure that was where my father was headed, I wasn't about to have us all doomed to an eternity in hell.
Love your punch line...along with it's disclaimer !