Kindergarten Goliath

It was the tallest I had ever seen. It was intimidating; however, I was and determined to climb to the top and slide down its shiny metal surface. The slide at Immaculate Conception Elementary School would make its mark on me.

The slide probably wasn’t more than 6 or 7 feet tall, but my 45-inch, 5-year-old frame saw a behemoth standing before me. My classmates quickly scaled the steps and flew down the searing metal, landing smoothly on their feet. The scorching August sun and the shiny metal slide didn’t seem to bother their legs.

I wanted to go down it but was hesitant. I was afraid of heights. The surface of the slide was the temperature of the sun. The drop at the end into a bare dirt patch was nearly 2 feet off the ground. Everything about this slide was too much for me; however, I loved slides and wanted to experience this one. I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t go on the slide. I wanted to fit in.

I inched my way up the ladder and positioned myself to slide down the other side. I was shaking as I slowly knelt down and shifted my legs so they stretched down the top of the slide. The metal was hot on my calves and the back of my thighs. I wore a pink dress with little blue shapes and a broad white collar, socks with lace at the ankles, and little shoes that were inappropriate for playtime. I screwed up my courage and pushed off. Down I flew, the backs of my legs burning from the heat and the friction. My dress hiked up from the force of it all. The ride went so fast that I wasn’t prepared for the landing and flew off the end into the dirt, landing hard on my butt.

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I was early in my kindergarten career, but I knew crying was unacceptable to my classmate. However, the tears from pain and embarrassment still poured down my cheeks. I was too nervous to go down that slide again. I wouldn’t repeat my shame. It stood for many more years until someone decided it wasn’t safe and built some new wooden playground equipment one day, minus a tall slide.

It’s been over 35 years since I slowly stood up crying from that ill-fated ride. I recognize now this endeavor was doomed to fail. There were just too many things going against my success: my dress, the height of the slide, the heat of the metal, and the drop at the end. I didn’t have the tools or support to do this. No one to spot me as I climbed the ladder. No one to comfort me when I came crashing to the ground. Sometimes that happens in life; unfortunately, we may not realize it until we have tried and failed.

We will all experience something like this in our lives. It can happen at any age or time. The situation we are wholly ill-equipped for and don’t know until it’s too late. We may get lucky and land on our feet or find ourselves sitting in the dirt, crying.

I will try again if I ever see one of those tall, metal slides. I have different skills now and better play clothes. I feel I am owed a redo. A second chance to conquer my Kindergarten Goliath. An opportunity to show my inner 5-year-old that I can do it. If I ever get the chance to redeem myself, I won’t do it in a dress.

This was written while attending the Telling It True retreat at The Christine Center. Thank you to Joanne Nelson her guidance, time, and heart.