One author, by the name of Robert Fulghum, made a famous poem entitled: All I ever need to know, I learned in kindergarten. The first part of the poem says:
And what to do and how to be
I learned in kindergarten.
Wisdom was not at the top
Of the graduate school mountain,
But there in the sandpile at Sunday school.”
It was a simple poem but whenever I think about it, I could not resist the truth behind what Robert Fulghum said. Indeed, the basic things we need to know about life are learned in kindergarten. It is in kindergarten that I learned about the concept of giving and receiving. To have a taste of your classmate’s cookies, you must be willing to let them have a piece of your sandwich. It is also in kindergarten that I learned about the basics of friendship, respect, and honesty. I could go on and on about all the lessons kindergarten brought me but there is one specific lesson that I still vividly remember up to this day. That lesson is about following rules. Whenever I want to break rules (although I still do at times), I remember that specific event in my kindergarten year.
When I was young I have this obsession about stairs. Whenever I see stairs, it was as if my feet would suddenly have a mind of their own and convince me to run up and down the stairs. It gave me a feeling of pride and accomplishment whenever I was able to run up and down it speedily and continuously, without interruption. At home, I rarely do that because my mother would always yell at me. She said that the next time she sees me running up or down the stairs, she would not allow me to go out and play with my friends. During that time I have three best friends who, guess what, also have an obsession with stairs! Actually, it was from them that I learned about this great hobby. We actually made a sport out of it. We would pair up in two and race in the stairs. Since we are four in the group, the winner in each pair will battle with the winner in the other. I rarely won the battle. I reasoned that it was because of lack of practice since my mom, who was a fulltime housewife, was almost always there to sabotage my practice at home. There was always some sort of prize for the winner – a pack of potato chips, an extra scoop of ice cream, getting to play with the play station for longer amount of time, etc. The prizes were not a big deal but the humiliation that comes to me out of having the most number of losses was almost unbearable.
One day, after our class in pre-school, my three friends were already fetched by their guardians. There were a couple of other kids waiting for their parents, playing on the school ground. Some kids were on the swing. Some were running and chasing each other. I was about to go to the vacant swing when I realized it was a perfect time to practice my favorite sport! I went back inside our two-floor building, and headed for the stairs. It was a perfect time indeed! No one was there except me. “Finally, I could practice without disturbance!” I said to myself. I ran up and down the stairs a couple of times, without taking a rest. I knew that if I had to practice, I should practice fast because my mother would be there anytime soon. I was getting tired and sweaty but my feet convinced me to do one last session. I ran up the stairs panting. When in the middle of running down the stairs, a sudden twist of fate happened and I tripped!
I could not remember what exactly happened. All I remember was being at the foot of the stairs, with my butt on the ground. I was so shocked that I immediately stood on my feet to check if somebody was around or if anybody saw what happened. My knees were shaking. Sweat was all over my body. When I saw that no one was there except me, I decided that I would tell no one of the accident. It will just be a tiny little secret between me and my hard-headed feet.
I started walking but when I had done a couple of steps, I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. Suddenly, all those times when my mom yelled at me for running the stairs flashed back in my memory. She would say, “Don’t do that or else you can trip, fall, and break your bones!” The thought of broken bones never scared me until that time. Tears started welling up my eyes. My mind was so confused. I did not know whether I was crying because of the pain, because of the possibility of a broken bone, or because I was scared of my mom. I knew she would get really mad at me. Will she really never allow me to go out again and play with my friends? Will I still be able to run in the first place? Will the pain in my ankle go away?
I stood there frozen with all these questions in my head. I can’t remember how long I had been there staring blankly along the hall until I saw someone walking towards me. I could barely see because of the tears in my eyes but that someone had a familiar form. When the person were already a couple meters near me, I finally recognized. It was my mom. When she realized it was me and that I was crying, she hurriedly came to me and worriedly asked me what happened. I could not talk for a while. I did not know what to say. Should I tell a lie? If yes, what would I say to explain the pain in my ankle? When she asked again, I could not help myself and I just wept loudly. My mom hugged me and asked me again and again “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” When I was able to stop myself from crying, I mumbled to her, “I ran the stairs and tripped. Are you mad at me?” She was in shock. She asked if there was any pain I am feeling and I pointed to my left ankle. Immediately, she carried me and brought me to the clinic.
My ankle was a bit swollen and it was really painful. The nurse put bandage in my left ankle and she was explaining something to my mom about Xray. We went to the hospital and I had the xray. Luckily I did not have any broken bone. It was just a sprain. When we reached home, my mom prepared lunch for me like she normally would. I was waiting for her next move. I was waiting for her to drop the bomb about the punishment. When she finally talked to me, what she said really struck me and it stuck with me until this day. “Rules are there to protect us and not to restrain our freedom.” That was when I realized the importance of rules. She was right. Her rules regarding the stairs were meant to protect me and not to harm me. Whenever she would say something about what I should or should not do, what she said about rules compelled me to obey (although I still disobey at times). By the way, she grounded me for a week.
