Pre-K Get Away!

My mother, over the span of my 20 years, has been a care full and wonderful mother. I remember being 4 or so, while my older siblings were in school, having breakfast in bed every morning, and taking walks. I remember watching Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's every morning. Until, it was decided I'd be enrolled in Pre-K. Now, I don't rightly recall what I was thinking as I walked into that room full of snot-nosed kids singing, "Itsy Bitsy Spider". But I do remember my thoughts as I layed eyes upon my teacher.


She was maybe 5'4'' and weighed 330 pounds. And in her previous life was Adolf Hitler himself. she was very evil, and not nice to me like my mommy. This place of hell had no TV's and only lame little mats for a nap time. Which was never required for the Sursa house hold. We sat around, in a circle, singing little songs that somehow would teach us "life lessons". Maybe there should've been a song for going on a diet. But that wasn't likely to happen. After forcing me to get up every morning, and dragging me to Pre-K, I somehow persuaded my mom to not make me go anymore!

It was around Christmas if I remember correctly, because my mom had managed to find a large enough sweatshirt from wal-mart so she could make a Christmas themed shirt for my teacher. My objective was to go in and give this to her, and my sentence of no breakfast in bed or Sesame Street would be over. I walk in and hand this teacher my shirt, and I remember this very vividly, and I run out as fast as my little white legs would carry me. And I jump in our Suburban and hide in the back seat. "Mom, go for it!", I yell at the top of my lungs as though this was a Bank Robbery, and my mother was the Get-Away driver. Something was wrong. My mother wasn't "flooring" it as I had so anxiously yelled at her to do. We sat there, idoling. I poked my little blonde head up over the seat as I heard voices. My over-weight, huffing and puffing, and breathing like James Gandolfini. She was resting on the unrolled window, trying to speak, but was having some issues. She hadn't run like that since someone took the last Kit-Kat at the grocery store.


They spoke in muzzled voices. Or as I like to call it back then, "Grown up Voices". Eventually, I was told to get out of the car and go back into school and play with my friends and sing some more Christmas songs, I'm sure. I will never forget the feeling of betrayal or the look my mother gave me when I got out of the car. She seemed almost as heartbroken as I was. I struggled through the rest of the year, but I made it through Pre-K, then slowly Kindergarten and first grade. And the next thing I know, I'm in college trying to decide what I want to do with my life.


I wish I could move back in with my mother, have her bring me my sweet rice and toast in the morning, and have her lie in bed with me and watch Dora the Explorer or something. But, just as I made it through all of those times, with my mother behind me, never faltering, I will move on and become someone only my mother and father could dream of. Thanks Mom. Thanks for making me go back in that day. I'm sure if you let me off the hook that day, I'd still be living at home in your basement playing Dungeons and Dragons eating a back of Funyons, washed down with a cold Mountain Dew, still dreaming of the day when I get my first kiss. I love you more than anything, and am indebted to you till the day I die.