Nursery School

As a child I lived in the shadow of fear and anxiety. I'm not sure where they came from...the easy answer is that my family moved from England to America when I was three and a half, but the way my mother tells it, I was an anxious, clingy child even before that.

I've heard the story of my first--and only--visit to the local nursery school some months before we left England, but I've only ever heard it from my mother's point of view--the exasperated, exhausted woman with the child she couldn't leave anywhere. Not even for a minute.

But what's my story in all of this?

...I run my hand along the black iron railing that separates the school yard from the pavement. Mummy walks beside me pushing the pram where my baby brother rides. I want to ride in the pram, too, but Mummy says I'm too big and must walk beside her like a big girl.

The big girls and boys in the school yard are very noisy and I press my hands to my ears to shut them out. I'm glad there's a fence to keep the big boys away. I don't like big boys. They are noisy and they frighten me almost as much as dogs. Big, loud, nasty things. I walk a bit closer to Mummy. I wish I could ride in the pram.

We get where we are going and I find myself in a room full of children. There are some ladies there, too. One of the ladies says I must go and play with the other children while she talks to Mummy. I think the big wooden climbing frame looks fun. It has a big slide, and I would like to go down the slide. I don't think I want to climb the frame to get to the top, though. It looks too high and I'm afraid of falling and hurting myself.

I go to the bottom of the slide and start to climb up. It's slippery polished wood. I grip the sides tight with my fingers. A boy shouts at me from the top. He wants to slide down but I am in the way. I want to slide too, but this is the only way I can get up to the top.

I finally get to the top and slide down. Then I look around for Mummy. She's not there, so I start to cry. Mummy should be here. Where has she gone? One of the ladies sees me crying and comes over to me. She wants to know what's wrong. I tell her I want my Mummy. She picks me up and asks me if I want to go and find a toy to play with. She carries me to a room full of toys. There's a hobby horse and a toy train, a red ball and some blocks. But I don't want to play with those toys. I just want my Mummy, and I don't know why she doesn't come. She always comes when I cry...

I'm told that my mother was actually there the whole time, watching through a window. She hated leaving me there, and felt awful when I cried, but she'd been told that she had to get me used to being without her for short periods...