THE GENESIS OF THE KINDERGARTEN PARTISANS

I stood in the front of my kindergarten class on a mat. I was late for school. My winter jacket, wooly hat, boots and gloves were all coated with thick ice and snow. Mrs. Reltih, my kindergarten teacher, glared at me angrily. A class full of five year olds stood erectly and silently on the tiered bleachers, eighty eyes staring at me. My late appearance had caused a delay in the singing of the National Anthem and the pledging of allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

Mrs. Reltih told me to lift my right leg. She then grabbed my right boot with her right hand and tugged and pulled the boot off my foot. She held the boot upside down over her head over the mat; snow and ice poured out of the boot onto the mat. She raised her head slowly and asked the class in disgust, “Is this what a good boy does?” The class in unison responded, “No, Mrs. Reltih!!!” I stood stone faced and quiet.

She grabbed and tugged my left boot, held it upside down over her head over the mat, and again the ice and snow poured out of the boot onto the mat, and she again asked the class in disgust, “Is this what a good boy does?” Again the class responded in unison, “No, Mrs. Reltih!!! I stood stone faced and quiet.

Sally, Timmy and I walked to school together every morning, and this morning was a beautiful snowy morning. We walked down the DeArment Parkway hill that ran in front of our houses, cut through a couple of yards, and entered the woods. We stopped all at once, and in unison, we gazed across the quick running, cold, clear brook, tilted our heads towards the heavens and gazed in wonder at snow covered tree limbs and the path up the hill which was blanketed with a foot of untouched virginal snow, not a footprint to be seen. We stood for a moment and stared wide eyed, as we were absorbed into a magical world. We were alone; up over the hill was the street that lead to the school. Maybe we had just a little time to play. No one actually said it. It was one of those strange moments when all minds present melt into one unified thought.

Mrs. Reltih grabbed my hat and gloves with her hands; she held them up for my five year old peers to see and again said in angry disgust, “Is this what a good boy does?” Again the the class responded in unison, “No, Mrs. Reltih!!” I stood stone faced and quiet.

We sloshed through the creek, the cold water running over our boots. We ran up the path, arms flailing, laughter filling the woods, sliding down the path again and again on our bellies, on our backs, throwing snowballs, making snow angels–Then just as suddenly, we stopped playing, glanced at each other and started up the hill to school. We arrived at the road. The crossing guard was gone. We ran across the street, in the front door and hustled to our various classrooms.

Mrs. Reltih finished with me and ordered me to my spot on the bleachers. “You won’t be doing that again, will you Mr. Ryan! She commanded. “It was fun;” I responded. The class went still, the eye of the hurricane, and the eighty eyes turned upon me. Mrs. Reltih flew up the bleachers shoving kids out of the way with her left hand as she grabbed me by the ear with her right hand, dragged me down the bleachers to the classroom door, screaming, “You’re going to the principal’s office!!” “Freedom!!!” I yelled as she shoved me out the door. As I was being dragged down the hallway by my ear, I heard my classmates break out in laughter. I smiled, Ooorah!! The kindergarten partisans were born.

If the finger paints are smeared on the desks and on the chairs,
If the blocks are a mess, “c” before “b,” “e” after “s,”
Then you know; then you know;
Kindergarten partisans on the go, on the go!

If the shoes are all untied,
If the percentage pie puzzle can’t be espied,
Then you know; then you know;
Kindergarten partisans on the go, on the go!

If the toy trucks have no wheels,
If the class zoo has no plastic seals,
Then you know; then you know;
Kindergarten partisans on the go, on the go!

The above is a typical Kindergarten partisan training or marching verse, often used instead of “The Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe” or “Jack and Jill.”

2 Comments

  1. MazzleDazzle,
    Don’t you think all “good boys” should be on the wrong side of that question?
    The Accidental Lawyer

    Reply
  2. Great story! Brought back memories good and gray. Been on the wrong side of that question; “is this what a good boy does”? Also being part of the little rascal underground. On an equal footing with memories of being 5 again and “ut oh”, shouldn’t we be somewhere else?

    Reply

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