I hated my first day of kindergarten. I was wearing what my mom thought was the definition of kindergarten chic...a white dress with neon blue bows at the hemline, which only went to my knees.
I wanted to wear my usual jeans and a t-shirt with a pun phrase on the cover which back then I only saw as colorful designs. But no, instead my mom got me a whole new wardrobe of frilly dresses and glitzy accessories.
Needless to say, I wasn't happy. I was even unhappier when my mom kissed me goodbye after dropping me off. I didn't care who saw...I wailed. The kindergarten teacher looked distraught as the tears kept on coming. I remember her saying things like, 'We're going to have so much fun!' or 'Do you want to color!' Nothing helped until my mom got down on one knee and pulled me in for a hug.
She whispered, "Don't cry, baby. You look beautiful and you're going to make some amazing friends here." After she broke from the hug, she held my hands in hers. "Who's my fierce firecracker?"
"Me?" I answered weakly.
"That's right!" she answered enthusiastically before waving good-bye to me again.
Before I could start crying again, my kindergarten teacher placed a box of crayons in my hands and steered me to a table filled with other little girls. There was only one seat left. I sat down and said, "Hello!"
"Hi cryer" said the most beautiful girl I ever saw. With grey blue eyes and sun kissed blonde hair.
"My name is Kat," I replied. "I'm not gonna cry anymore."
Another girl at the table with frizzy Brown hair and a smattering of freckles said, "Good, but you should find another table to sit at." I was about to ask her why when she said, "My momma said I'm not supposed to talk with black people."
"I'm not black. I'm American," I answered with unwavering confidence. "My mom isn't from America. She's from Columbus." Back then I didn't know how to say Colombia. Or, my whole first name for that matter.
The girl with frizzy Brown hair said, "Well whatever your name is, get away from us."
I didn't know how to react. I was shocked but still in my seat. Till a boy that was playing with dinosaurs ran too close to our table and knocked me off of my chair. "Watch it!" he yelled at me as he picked up the plastic dinosaurs from the floor.
"I'm sorry," I replied as I handed him a dinosaur. He didn't grab the one I was holding.
"Hmm?" I asked as I waved the plastic dinosaur I was still holding in front of him. He took a step away from me in disgust. "You can keep it. I don't want to catch your cooties."
"What's that?"
"An illness girls can give to boys by touch. It's deadly." That's when I noticed the girls and boys sat separately from each other. So, I knew whatever this boy just told me must be true.
Which is why I ran to my cubby to look for the thin gloves my mom got me. They were unnecessary in the state of Arizona but my mom still insisted on thin gloves and a sweater just in case. I slipped on my gloves and held the dinosaur once more as I ran to the boy who was so informed about the cooties.
He was talking with another boy who asked him if he could play with the dinosaurs too. The boy with all of the plastic dinosaurs shook his head. "I don't need you. I'm fine on my own. Now git!"
"Um, hello," I said as I handed the dinosaur to the boy who claimed all of the plastic dinosaurs in our kindergarten class as his. "Here you go." I again, held out the plastic dinosaur with my gloved hands.
The boy looked at my hands cautiously. "You sure that will be enough not to spread the cooties?"
"I think so," I replied. It was good enough for him as he snatched the dinosaur away.
I was going towards the table with the girls again, when I noticed another girl was in my seat, coloring from the book I was just coloring in. "Aren't you going to go back to your friends?" dinosaur boy asked me.
"I don't know," I replied. Then, I had an amazing idea. I was going to ask dinosaur boy my question since he seemed more informed about the world than me. "I have a question."
"Shoot." he replied as he sat on the floor and started arranging the plastic dinosaurs in a certain way. Then, he looked up at me from his project. "That means go 'head and ask."
"Do I look black to you?"
He pondered this for a moment before doling out his professional opinion. "No. You look tan. Who said you looked black?"
I pointed at the table where I was sitting. "One of them said she could not talk with me because I'm black."
"Really....remember who?" he asked me as he arranged his dinosaurs seemingly disinterested in our conversation.
"That one with frizzy Brown hair," I replied as I gestured a hand to the table again.
"Follow me," he said as he stood up from his dinosaur project. Before he moved completely away he cupped his hands in front of his mouth as he hollered, "I still have dibs on the dinos!!!!!"
I followed him as he made a beeline towards the teacher...until he stopped. He turned to me to say, "Looks like our teacher is still busy. Let's go find the Prince." Our teacher was very busy trying to reassure some clingy-looking parents. He grabbed my hand that still had gloves on them and pulled open the classroom door. Our teacher didn't even notice our departure.
"Is it alright to leave?"
"Sure it is," he replied with a flippant wave of his free hand. "In pre-school I left the room all of the time! Now, where would the Prince's office be?"
"You don't know?" I asked with shock.
As another adult walked down the hall he whispered, "Just let me do the talking."
I nodded in understanding as I let dinosaur boy handle this situation...whatever it was. He smiled as he asked a lady teacher (who turned out to be a sub) of another class, "Hello! We're looking for the Prince's office."
She raised her eyebrows for a moment until realization dawned on her face. "Oh. You mean the Principal's office? Let me show you, honey."
Without complaint or questions, we were led to the Principal's office. The sub teacher told the Principal he had some visitors and we both entered his office after that.
This principal with blue black skin and a wearer of cartoon neckties would come to know us both throughout our elementary education: for good and bad reasons. "Hello, how can I help you?" he asked us.
"This girl named..." he looked at me questioningly.
"Kat."
"This girl named Kat spoke with a girl who told her she can't speak with black people when Kat is clearly tan. Right?"
"Yes," I replied.
The Principal raised both of his eyebrows as he looked at me and asked, "Do you remember who told you this?"
"I don't know her name, but..."
"She's the only girl in our class with sticky-outy Brown hair. I can point her out if you need me to!"
"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Mister...?"
"My name's Kit, sir."
"Well, let's go find your classroom." That day the girl with frizzy Brown hair left school earlier than the rest of us. Her parents weren't happy to see her. Even though there was an empty seat at the table I sat at before, I didn't take it.
Instead, I sat down on the ground next to Kit as he was playing with his dinosaurs, and he even let me name a few of them. He had sun kissed blonde hair just like the girl with blue grey eyes. Except, his eyes were a piercing dark brown that looked into your soul.
He was the only friend I made that day. His turned out to be the only friendship that mattered.