Five Year Old Rebel

An Essay

Five Year Old Rebel

It was time for me to enter kindergarten and I wasn’t at all happy about it. I was having too much fun being home and making puppets and televisions out of cardboard, construction paper and toys.

My parents took me there the day before we were to begin classes and I felt like I was waiting in a doctors office. I hated it but my Mom and Dad told me I had to go there everyday in order to start first grade the year after.

The next morning I got ready and my parents took me to my first day of class. Our teacher handed us each a small triangle instrument to play music. That was fun and I loved it. All the beautiful sounds emanating from each child making music made me happy and I thought, “okay, this isn’t so bad.” However as the day went on, we got down to counting blocks, adding blocks, subtracting blocks etc… I became numb with boredom.

Finally, time for break. We were given milk and a cookie. We went outside to the playground and played hopscotch. Me, still bored.
I clearly remember sitting there thinking “I have to go home. I’m not doing this everyday, I’m leaving.”

The bell rang, we shuffled back into class and I started plotting my escape. I told the teacher I needed to go to the restroom and looked around, found a door to get outside and I left.

I don't think three minutes passed when there I am walking on the sidewalk outside trying to figure out how to get home when a teacher came up to me, grabbed me, took me back to class and called my parents. Mom and Dad came and picked me up, talked with the teacher and I cried and pleaded on the way home to get me out of that jail. It worked and I didn’t have to go back.

To this day, keep me out of confined situations where I have to follow rules. I do however miss playing that triangle.

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Joanne Olivieri

Published author, poet and photographer. Love birds, animals, food, art, books, music. Contact -