I never went to kindergarten. While we were still living in the attic across from Grandma Conley, my mother enrolled me in first grade, so I was a little younger than the other kids, not turning six until December. I loved my first grade teacher and was proud that she said I was a smart boy.
I attended second grade (I believe) at Hotchkiss school after we had moved to 34(?) Elm Drive. My mother was solicitous that first day at Hotchkiss to be sure that I could walk home by myself. I was confident and assured her that I could. I couldn’t! I asked someone for directions that first day, then managed the journey successfully after that. My Hotchkiss experience was typical of most of my school years: I always did well academically (except for the time that I was convinced that 1/10 had to equal 2/5, though I couldn’t logically perform the permutation), but had few friends. For many years I thought it was because I started school young. But, I eventually realized that it’s more likely because I’m not a personality that has many close friends. I had a memorable baseball (softball?) game in which I learned that crossing home plate after the third out doesn’t count.
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