Kindergarten for Grown Ups
When I was 4 years old, I showed up at school without my homework book. It felt like a huge crisis.
School was the biggest event in my days. It was a happy place. The school was within walking distance from home and my mom or my older siblings would walk me there.
The mornings were bright and sunny.
The school was new. At the time, the school rented a few rooms attached to a church building as classrooms. The classrooms were small, but warm and inviting. On the walls hang the 26 letters of the alphabet in caps and small letters, the numbers 1 to 10, assorted craft projects and Bible verses. Being new, there were less than 10 students in my class.
Learning was fun. All the subjects were great except one — sleeping time. There was mandatory time for sleep every morning. The teacher rolled out a big mat for all of us to lie down and sleep. I never understood this part of school. It would be towards the end of the morning and I was fully awake. I didn’t understand how the teacher expected everyone to fall asleep automatically right after a stimulating lesson. I also didn’t understand some of my classmates who quickly fell asleep as soon as they lay down and were already drooling saliva in their sleep. I spent sleeping time awake with my eyes closed. My eyes blinked frequently and I would open them lightly from time to time to see which of my friends were sleeping.
Homework was a big thing. You had to do it and your parent signed in the homework book that they had checked your homework. I had never shown up without my homework before. It’s just something I and my conscientious mom made sure never happened. But not this morning.
The homework book had to be handed to the teacher as we walked through the door every morning. When it was time to hand over the book, I noticed my school bag was lighter than normal. When I opened it to look for the homework book, there were only containers with my packed meal and a small flask with my tea. I had forgotten the homework book on the dinner table at home where I sat and wrote homework the previous evening.
The teacher asked where my book was. Only one answer came to mind.
I told him I didn’t have it but it was coming. That was a strange answer considering we didn’t have a way of calling home to tell them I had left my book and that they should send someone to bring it.
But I said that to the teacher with all the confidence a 4-year-old could muster.
I was allowed in and started to learn the first subject that morning. Midway through the morning, there was a knock on the classroom door.
The teacher went to open the door and sure enough, it was our house help at the door with my homework book and he gave it to the teacher. What a relief.
Looking back now, I don’t know where that answer came from. I didn’t say it to lie. I also didn’t have any proof that the book was going to come.
I still use that experience as an adult dealing with uncertainty. I have no guarantee that things will play out well but know they will. The world is more complex and the problems are bigger than they were when I was four.
I don’t know where or how but big breaks and opportunities are coming. The only thing that assures me is that same assurance I had as a 4-year-old that things will go well.
