Kindergarten Chaos

My kindergarten class with Mrs. Weigandt

In 1973, I remember walking into the Ethan Gymnasium for my kindergarten screening, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation swirling inside me. The gym was filled with the cheerful chatter of other children, all eagerly awaiting the start of their school journey. For me, this moment marked the beginning of an entirely new adventure: finally going to school like my older siblings. I clutched Mama's hand tightly as I scanned the room, imagining the fun lessons, story times, and playground games that awaited me. That day sparked the beginning of attending school that didn't end until I retired from teaching in 2024.

Before long, I stepped into a tiny, dim room where an unfamiliar woman was waiting to conduct my kindergarten screening. The space was modestly furnished, featuring a small table, several bright toys, and a clipboard securely gripped in the woman’s hands. Although the surroundings appeared strange and somewhat intimidating, her soothing tone and the playful items nearby helped calm my nerves. The screening consisted of straightforward activities – such as recognizing shapes, naming colors, and obeying simple directions – which felt more like playful challenges than assessments. It seemed I succeeded, as the woman informed me that I was eligible to start kindergarten that fall!

The night before my very first day of kindergarten, I was overwhelmed with a mix of excitement and anxiety that my young mind could hardly contain. In the early hours of the morning, that nervous energy took a surprising turn – I suddenly woke up feeling queasy and, unfortunately, ended up vomiting all over the olive-green curtains in my room. The rich, earthy color that once gave my room a cozy vibe was quickly ruined by the unexpected mess, adding a whole new layer of stress to an already emotional time. Mama rushed into the room to find me weeping in the corner. With a cool cloth, she wiped away the tears streaming down my face. The room felt heavy with the smell and the mess, but what weighed on me even more was the thought swirling in my mind – that I wouldn’t be able to go to kindergarten the next day.

Tears still streaming down my face, I nestled against Mom’s chest, confessing my fear that my dreadful sickness might keep me from attending my very first kindergarten day. Gently embracing me, Mama gently explained that what I was feeling wasn’t actually an illness, but anxiety – a sensation brought on by nerves and worry rather than germs. With a warm smile, she comforted me, assuring me that these feelings were completely normal before facing new and important experiences, and that they didn’t mean I would miss school the next morning. Her soothing words calmed the turmoil inside me, reminding me that my emotions were real but fleeting, and that come morning, I would be ready to walk confidently through the school doors into an exciting new adventure.

When morning arrived, I sprang out of bed, no longer ill and buzzing with enthusiasm for my first day of kindergarten. Sunlight poured through the window without curtains, filling the room as a fresh wave of confidence replaced the nervousness I had felt the night before. The aches and chills that had made me want to hide beneath the blankets disappeared – today signified new beginnings, vibrant colors, and the chance to make friends and learn captivating things. Dressing quickly in my favorite Garanimal outfit, I eagerly made my way downstairs, prepared to seize every moment of this important milestone. The world felt renewed and brimming with opportunities, and I understood that this was only the beginning of a remarkable undertaking.

With Mom already at work, I felt a comforting sense of security because my sister Pam, who is eight years my senior, was there to walk me to school. Grasping her hand firmly, I observed how tall and courageous she appeared, like a genuine hero leading me through this fresh and thrilling journey. Along the way, Pam told me stories about her own school days and promised that I would make lots of new friends and learn fun things. Thanks to her warmth and support, excitement replaced my anxiety, and I felt prepared to begin this new chapter with Pam encouraging me every step of the way.

As we approached the door to the kindergarten classroom, Mrs. Weigandt greeted me with a warm, welcoming smile. She wasn’t much taller than I was, and her youthful energy immediately put me at ease. Despite her inexperience, there was a confident kindness in her eyes that suggested she genuinely cared about the children entrusted to her. The colorful decorations on the door behind her reflected a playful and nurturing environment, making it clear that this was a space where I would be nurtured. Her cheerful demeanor made me feel quickly at home, so I dropped Pam's hand and stepped boldly into the room to join other students who had arrived before me.

The kindergarten room was nestled within the high school portion of the building and offered a uniquely inviting and vibrant environment. It had tall ceilings with cabinets along the upper walls to cleverly maximize storage space while keeping the room organized and clutter-free. Adding to the charm and brightness of the room were the large eight-foot windows, which flooded the space with natural light and helped energize us throughout the day. This thoughtful design blended functionality with aesthetic appeal, making it a perfect haven for us to explore, learn, and grow within the school setting.

From the very first day, Mrs. Weigandt's enthusiasm and patience shone through as she navigated the chaos of teaching all thirty of us to read, explore, and share. Each day was filled with colorful lessons, story time adventures, and carefully crafted activities designed to ignite our curiosity and nurture our creativity. Despite being new to teaching, Mrs. Weigandt quickly became a comforting presence in the classroom — her gentle voice and warm smile made even the most nervous among us feel safe and loved. With thirty unique personalities to guide, she developed an incredible knack for balancing structure and fun, turning what could have been overwhelming into one of the most memorable years of my early childhood. Looking back, her dedication during that first year laid the foundation for my lifelong love of learning.

With my thirty-three years of teaching experience, I am highly impressed by Mrs. Weigandt's ability to manage our dynamic classroom of thirty kindergartners, each with distinct needs, including a child with Down Syndrome and others with dyslexia, ADHD, or various other learning challenges. It takes extraordinary patience, dedication, and creativity to create an environment where every child feels supported and valued. Mrs. Weigandt managed to develop clear routines to provide stability for the children with ADHD, while incorporating individualized learning strategies and compassionate guidance for the struggling learners. Her ability to maintain calm amidst the vibrant energy of our kindergarten classroom speaks volumes about her skill as an educator. By fostering inclusivity and celebrating every child’s strengths, she not only taught academic lessons but also modeled empathy, resilience, and kindness to shape our lives beyond the classroom walls.

This is not to say there wasn’t any chaos, especially the unforgettable moment when Dean decided to demonstrate how to shoot Lincoln Logs across the room. What started as an innocent demonstration quickly turned into a wild barrage of wooden logs flying through the air, crashing against walls and narrowly missing unsuspecting classmates. Laughter erupted amid the chaos, blending with shouts of surprise and the occasional gasp as each “shot” sent the little logs soaring like miniature projectiles. Although it was a lesson in physics and aim, Mrs. Weigandt waded in to stop our youthful shenanigans. After that the Lincoln Logs were stored in one of the high cabinets out of our reach.

Another obstacle for Mrs. Weigandt to navigate included the challenging behavior of Todd, a spirited kindergartner in our class who had a habit of running away and hiding during the school day. Todd’s bursts of independence were hard to manage, as he would suddenly dash off to secluded corners of the school or even leave the school grounds to head home, seeking a quiet space away from the bustling environment. Understanding that his behavior stemmed from feeling overwhelmed and needing control, Mrs. Weigandt approached the situation with remarkable patience and empathy. She created a safe, cozy nook in the classroom where Todd could retreat voluntarily whenever he felt anxious, eventually helping him express his emotions through words rather than escape. Through consistent routines, gentle reassurance, and positive reinforcement, she helped Todd feel more secure and included, turning what was once a disruptive challenge into an opportunity for growth and trust-building in our classroom community.

Kindergarten was a magical time filled with simple yet unforgettable moments that still make me smile today. One of the most exciting milestones was losing my very first tooth – a tiny gap that made me feel proud and just a bit more grown-up. I remember wiggling it nervously all day until, finally, it popped out somewhere in the classroom. Despite our thorough search, we were unable to locate the small white nub.  Mrs. Weigandt wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy, so I wouldn't miss out on the quarter under my pillow. Another memory includes our hippy music teacher who brought a unique vibrancy to the classroom, filling our days with joyful singing sessions accompanied by her guitar. Her free-spirited tunes and encouraging smile made learning songs feel like a wonderful adventure, and soon we were all clapping our hands and swaying to the rhythm. Outside, we played games like Duck Duck Goose to add a burst of laughter and energy to our afternoons, as we chased one another in circles, hearts pounding with excitement. These small, vivid experiences wove together a tapestry of happiness and carefree innocence that I treasure deeply.

By the end of the school year, Mrs. Weigandt managed to shape not only my love for learning but also my understanding of kindness, patience, and community. What began as a chaotic whirlwind of curious five-year-olds became a close-knit group, guided by a teacher whose heart was as big as her dedication. Years later, whenever I face challenges or uncertainty, I find myself recalling her gentle voice and steady encouragement, reminding me that every obstacle is an opportunity to grow. Mrs. Weigandt didn’t just teach us to read and share – she taught us to believe in ourselves. And for that, I will always be grateful.