The first conscious memory that I have of making a fool of myself was—the first day of kindergarten.
It was my very first day of school ever and we all stood holding hands in a circle. We had a few minutes left before it was time to go home. Mrs. Marquardt asked if anyone had an idea about what we could do with our extra few minutes.
No one spoke up so I did: “I know!” I said. ”Let’s dance!”
(I had a new pair of white patent leather shoes and I was so proud. Could this be my opportunity to show them off and make a few friends in the process?)
I jumped into the middle of that circle and I danced like there was no tomorrow. When I finally came out of my happy trance and opened my eyes, everyone was looking at me but not the way that I thought that they would. Then Mrs. Marquardt expressed her disapproval without holding back.
I walked home that day a little less of who I was when I got there. But, when I got home and my little sister Denise asked me, with complete and total worship:
“What was it like at Kindergarten?”
I answered her by slipping on those patent leather shoes and—re-enacting my DANCE!