I was born driving adults crazy.
My mother took to her rosary beads and holy water sometime between the Christmas of 1967 and New Year's Day.
I have loved words since as far back as I can remember, and began speaking to my mother as if she were a peer, not a parent. My mother began reading to me a few weeks after my birth. While still in the crib, I became very aware of the headline stories on television: The Vietnam War and The Space Race. I pondered photographs of space given to my father by an astronaut friend, and pieced together information connecting this to newscasts. I became very excited because I had, somewhere within this time frame, understood the patterns of connection between phonetic sounds and print. My mother had always pointed at the written words as she read them, and I caught on that patterns were being repeated over and over. This was sheer enlightenment! I could read the headlines of newspapers and actually UNDERSTAND what was written! I watched, from my play pen, as my father sipped coffee while hiding behind his newspaper. I understood the headlines, and listened when the newscasts were on television. I made the connection that I could learn more about the trip someone was making to the moon. I could learn about it in a newspaper! I wanted to read a newspaper, too!
My vocabulary grew daily, and my first use for it was to drive my mother even crazier. Not on purpose; I was just SO excited at grasping my new ability that I talked about everything, and read everything I saw: street signs, business signs, newspapers, magazines, et cetera. My mother was not aware that I was actually reading. She knew I read a favorite book often, but assumed I had simply memorized the story.
One day, I toddled into the kitchen and began regaling tales of murder and mayhem. I told my mother the story of a woman whose husband chased her with a butcher knife, in attempt to kill her! Luckily, the woman escaped. Aghast, my mother demanded to know where I had heard this horrible tale! I told her: in one of her True Story magazines. She checked, and sure enough, there it was! She told my father that evening, who began bringing books home on an almost weekly basis.
I read everything and anything; I was simply insatiable! Cookbooks, finance magazines, TV Guide, The Houston Post, and neighborhood graffiti no one seemed to want to explain.
I spent a childhood escaping my time period, my city, my state, my country, and my planet. I made friends from other galaxies and other nations. I made friends who lived centuries before, and some who were not yet born. I was enthralled by the magic of books! There were no frustrating boundaries to overcome, and it was a most wonderful, magical, fascinating world.
Soon, the time had come for me to drive another adult crazy, other than my mother. The ritual for this great change commenced with a walk one morning. The special uniform of this ritual was a lovely baby-blue chiffon dress my mother made, white tights, and white patent-leather shoes. My mother and I were accompanied by my neighbor, Bonnie, who lived across the street. Bonnie and I had been friends for ages. When you're five years old, a couple of months qualifies as an age. In silence we trod; I was elated, Bonnie was terrified, and I think my mother was relieved.
We arrived at our classroom, to be greeted by a large group of sheepish-looking women who had small people, about my size, attached to their legs. Many of these children were crying and wailing! I didn't understand why they were so afraid; was something going to happen to us here? Were our mothers leaving us? Was this COLLEGE? I had read about college. I really thought five years old was kind of young for university studies, and I thought my mother had said this was Kinney Garden, or something like that. My mother had gone down the hall to take Bonnie to the bathroom, so I thought I'd find out from someone else.
I saw a very beautiful, tall, slender brunette woman with a lovely smile, like the Good Fairy I read about someplace. No, perhaps it was a Good Princess. Anyway, I noticed this gentle woman who stood alone, greeting the weary, the tired, and the flabbergasted. I looked at the chalk board, and there it was:
Miss Annunziato
Okay, I get it. She's Miss Annunziato. No problem! I sauntered over and stuck out my hand. It didn't have peanut butter on it at that moment, so I figured this was okay.
Me:Hello, Miss Annunziato. My name is Judy. You are pretty!
She smiled, in surprise, to realize she was being addressed by a midget in kid's clothing. She kneeled down. As she kneeled down to face me, I saw it. She had a halo! Maybe she wasn't a princess. Nope, she was definitely Joan of Arc.
Joan/Miss Annunziato: Well, hello there, Judy! Are you in the right class? I don't have anyone named Judy. . .
Me: My first name is Sylvia, if that helps.
Joan/Miss Annunziato: Why, it does, thank you! How do you know my name? Did your mommy tell you how to say my name?
Me: (quite insulted at this) No! Isn't that your name written over there? (pointing)
Joan/Miss Annunziato: Yes, but how did you know that?
Me: I read it. (Was she kidding?)
I saw my mother return with a green-colored blonde girl. Oh, it was Bonnie. I grabbed Joan/Miss Annunziato's hand and introduced her to my mother and my chartreuse neighbor. Bonnie and I walked over to our seats, marked in yellow construction paper, with our names clearly written in Magic Marker, surrounded by adhesive metallic stars. Yep, this was no ordinary Fairy/Princess/Joan of Arc/Miss Annunziato. She had connections somewhere in the universe, because she had SHINY stars. Wow! I just knew this College/Kinney Garden was going to be a blast! Now I know why I've heard adults talk about college with such nostalgia!
1973 was marked by a great enthusiasm for learning, and socializing, and talking to this fabulous teacher, who I later confirmed, was NOT Joan of Arc, but she WAS Miss Annunziato. I got particularly annoyed when no one else would pronounce it right, they called her Teacher. (That is SO preschool!)She didn't seem to mind, though. She also confirmed, in her patient way, that this was kindergarten, not college, and not Kinney Garden. That was good, because I was beginning to wonder who Kinney was, and I still hadn't seen a garden anywhere.
I began, eventually, to get upset that Story Time always had the same format. Miss Annunziato would read a story (one I usually had already read), and we would listen. This was SO aggravating, and I was so impatient! Were we EVER going to read books for ourselves?
One day, I expressed my concerns to Miss Annunziato, and to my surprise, I got a library card! Our school didn't normally issue these to kindergarteners, but they made an exception for a squirmy little kid who probably just needed to stay out of her teacher's well-coiffed hair!
At any rate, my zeal for words, written and read, grew like a wildfire! Miss Annunziato always seemed to have patience and time for me, and didn't seem to be frustrated at my level of energy. I was always clamoring for MORE books often. My love of books was awarded in special privileges. I was invited to be in charge of STORY TIME for OTHER classes! Miss Annunziato and other teachers seemed to think that I had an expressive way of reading, and I got to tell stories to other kindergarten classes! It was such an incredible feeling! She truly believed in me, and it changed my life.
Miss Annunziato treated me with great respect, something adults didn't normally do. She helped me realize that I have a passion for words and communication, a fire that can't be quenched. She was my teacher, my mentor, my very best friend. Most importantly, she made a difference.
Miss Annunziato, I dedicate all of my written works, past, present, and future, to you; you are immortal. You were there, laying the groundwork for a lifelong thirst for knowledge. You were there, with your toolbox of patience, kindness, and love. Thank you for helping a somewhat obnoxious, albeit enthusiastic, little kid believe in herself, and realize that she can touch those stars she read about in newspaper headlines over thirty years ago. Because of you, I live and breathe flying through those stars daily.
Miss Annunziato, wherever you are, I just want to say THANK YOU.
Copyright 1999 Judith Hall
Keywords: inspiration, educators, learning, literacy, childhood, school days, education, kindergarten
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