by Pops Miller

Created on: January 17, 2009

Though I now have grandchildren of middle school age, I still can remember my first day of kindergarten. I was so very proud to begin school. With new shoes, new dress clothes and a fresh butch haircut, I was ready to Carpi Diem like no other! I was filled with confidence because I knew how to count to one hundred, I could write all of my letters and could even read a little bit.

We lived only a half of a city block from the school so mom walked me there on that first day, but I would get to walk home all by myself. Little did I know that the return trip would be taken like a man walking his final steps in route to the electric chair.

Class began well enough. My teacher was a very sweet, large, middle aged women with very gentle manners. I liked her immediately. The classroom was bright and cheery with lots of interesting stuff to see and tons of toys for us to play with. I was very excited. Then disaster struck.

My teacher had us all sit down and handed each of us a box of crayons. Then she gave us a folded sheet of white construction paper and asked us to print our names on it. With great pride, I took my time and carefully drew each letter of my name. M I C H E A L. Micheal.

My teacher seen this and immediately corrected me. Michael, she said, your name is spelled M I C H A E L not E A L. Though I was insulted at her error, I was polite and demonstrated what I thought was near angelic patience. I explained to her that she was incorrect and that my name was spelled E A L just like my mother taught me.

She went to her desk, looked at her records, and calmly told me that I was still wrong and that I must do it over again spelling it the correct way. I immediately objected. I am doing it right I exclaimed!

By this time all of the children were looking at us as this disagreement had become a showdown. I refused to do it again as she instructed. She then told me that I would not be allowed to play with the other children until I did it properly. Much to her surprise I called her bluff (which turned out not to be a bluff) and I spent that first day sitting alone at my desk while the other children played, had graham crackers and milk, and listened to a story.

At the end of the day my teacher pinned a note to my shirt and dismissed me with the rest of the children.

When I got home mom was excited to know how my first day went. I promptly told her that I was going to quit school and never go back. I showed her the note and told her about my horrible day. She sure was embarrassed when she realized that she had taught me how to spell my name incorrectly.

Many years later I was running for a political office and while out campaigning door to door, I knocked on the door of my retired kindergarten teacher. I did not recognize her initially but she knew who I was in an instant. I gave her the twenty second speech which concluded with me saying that I hoped that she would consider voting for me. She looked me square in the eye and said ... "Michael, in all of my years of teaching I never met a student that was so adamant about what they believed in and so willing to suffer any consequence instead of compromising that belief. You'll certainly have my vote Michael along with any others that I can drum up for you."

It was a close election. After the recount it turned out that I won by one single vote. I will always believe that the vote I won by was the vote that I earned on that first day of kindergarten so many years ago.

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