Forgotten Lessons

Hello. My name is Sera. I pronounce it "Sarah" though. I can spell my own name now. My middle name is harder to spell. I went to kindergarten once.

I remember the big blocks we used to play with. I played with Jeff and we made dinosaurs out of the blocks together. The dinosaurs were as big as I was. That was the first time I was told that I should clean up after myself. We had a lesson on it. I remember the blue frilly shirt mom picked out for me to wear and the pink clothes with skirts that I don't like anymore. I remember the fake food we would pretend to eat during play time. The teacher told us not to really put them in our mouths, because of tiny invisible things called germs or something. I remember using little stuffed animals and tiny kid-sized pillows to sleep on when they turned out the lights. I was usually the only one awake during nap time. I never slept very well. I remember my favorite white bear that I took to nap time with me, and I remember other kids fighting over the rest of the stuffed animals. I cried when kids called me mean names.

Things were so much easier back then. When I was small.

If someone stole my toy or pulled my hair, I could go cry. It was so simple. It would make it all better... After the teacher scolded them, of course. If I had a runny nose, I could wait until the teacher gave me a tissue paper to wipe my nose with, and that was okay. If I fell and scraped my knee, it was okay to cry about it, and the teacher would help me up and take me to the sink and wash my cut and put a bandage on it. And it was not a bad thing to feel hurt back then. It was okay to cry. It was normal.

But I can't solve my problems like that now. Problems are so much harder today. Grown ups don't like it when others cry. I think they don't know what to do because they're all the same height. They're the same size now as the teacher was back then, back when it was okay to cry. They don't know if they should be like the teacher and help people up, and clean their cuts, or if they should be like any other kid from class and cry along with them. After all, we are all the same height now. And instead, in the middle of the confusion between being teacher or class mate, they usually leave, not sure how to deal with what they left back in the room. And the other tall person is left where they were, feeling sad, and still crying, and now a little ashamed that they cried in front of another tall person.

Did I miss that lesson somewhere? The one that told us kids that it's still okay to cry, even when we grow up? Did someone forget to tell me that sometimes people need a hug when they cry, because we all need to feel? Did the teacher just not know that people need love and care, even when they are all grown up? Did she just forget to tell us? Or did her teachers not tell her that if she scraped her knee, it's okay to cry? And that it was normal?

Well, I must have missed those lessons. But I've found out through my own life that sometimes teachers don't know everything. Sometimes nobody knows anything, and all we have left is our feelings, and all we are, is confused little kindergarten kids. Someone out there should let us know that it's okay to feel lost and confused and that it's okay to cry. Someone should tell us that it's still normal.

I am someone.

It's okay to cry.
It's normal.

I think they forgot to tell us that.