BY: Keith S. Shikowitz, Editor in Chief/Investigative Reporter
The following is a true story about something that happened to me when I was in Kindergarten. It is one of many stories about being in school as a student and as a teacher as well as dealing with people in everyday life.
Every teacher has had to deal with his or her own group of smart – ass kids over the span of their career. My kindergarten teacher was one of the former and I was the latter. My mother spent as much time in my kindergarten classroom as I did. At least it seemed that way. Sometimes it was deserved, others it wasn’t. There are two incidents which stand out in my memory. The first one goes as follows:
We were learning shapes. My teacher had us cutting them out to learn what they were. As she was walking around the room checking on everyone, she got to me and saw what I was cutting out. She stopped and watched me for a minute, then asked, “Keith. What are you cutting out?” “Circles.” I replied. “What are you supposed to be cutting out?” “Squares.” She paused. “Then why are you cutting out circles?” “Because I felt like it.” My mother was called in my class the next day. This one I deserved.
The next one though, I was innocent. I know, everyone says that. But after reading the next passage, I am sure you will agree.
In kindergarten, there was time called “carpet or floor time”. This is when the students sit on the floor and the teacher sits in a chair above the eye level of the students. They either read to them or hold items for them to identify. This time it was the latter. We were still working on shapes. The class had finally caught up to me and we were now working on circles. We were sitting on the floor looking up at the teacher as she held a wooden locomotive where we had to look up at it. She held it sideways and asked us how many circles we saw. I raised my hand and said four. She called me to come up and show her where I saw four circles. I got up went over pointed to the side facing me and began counting, “One, two.” I took the locomotive out of her hands, turned it around and said, “Three, Four.” I received a letter to take home, “Dear Mrs. Shikowitz….” From my point of view from the floor looking up I saw four circles. Considering that we were seeing it from the bottom of the locomotive. What I should have gotten, like James T. Kirk did in the Kobayashi Maru test at Starfleet Academy, was a commendation for original thinking, not a letter home.