My social life began at my kindergarten school. I was three then and had my whole life ahead of me. I called my friends by their first names or by the nicknames that their nannies called them. We didn’t care about our playmates’ surnames anyway. They called me Angeli. I was fine with that. School meant learning the ABC, a little of good grooming and behaving properly. But every kid would agree that kindergarten equals playtime with friends.
Kids at my school had different ways of spending recess and dismissal time. Some played hide-and-seek, some liked Langit Lupa Impiyerno (a very morbid game for the young), others rushed to the swing, while coquettish girls allergic to sweat preferred Bahay-bahayan. My gang and other more mature children spent our leisure time wisely. Ours was a different yet intellectual pastime. We searched for diamonds in the big oval sandbox.
When the bell rang for break, all the kids hurried to different directions like wildfire spreading across the forest. Each one with a destination, a kid rushed to be in his post at warp speed. My group, however, was a cool bunch of three. We didn’t run to the sandbox but walked casually down the cement pavement, picked up our tools, them climbed in to find our precious gems. It was partly because my friend Margarita was a burly Italian girl. She shoved anyone who blocks her way and pushed the ones who piss her off. The bully boys were scared of her, so being her friend was a way of keeping safe in school. My other companion was Paolo, a pale skinny boy who looks awfully like Harry Potter minus the round glasses and the lightning scar. He was the type who quietly searched around for diamonds, held each gem against the sunlight to see its rainbow of colors then carefully placed them in his neon green pail. He was kind and tactful, not like the sweaty boys in the playground who were cruel and loud. At his tender age, he already opened doors for both Margarita and me, and he made sure that we stuck together in days of plenty and in moments of scarcity. He was my first Valentine. I think he was my first ever crush.
The diamonds we searched for in the great oval sandbox were little opaque stones, no more in size than a rock salt. These diamonds somehow glittered and radiated colors in the sunlight. Each diamond was definitely bigger than a particle of gray sand so it was quite easy to spot them. Of course, they were also fewer in number than sand particles. We placed our gems in the little neon pails that we brought with us. We then compared their sizes, counted what we had, and then proclaimed the winner of the day. To be a winner was a great honor because that means you would have the privilege to take home half of the diamonds that your friends collected. The day ended with the pronouncement of the diamond-collector winner. This was the daily grind back in kindergarten school. And though this happened a very long time ago, I reminisce each moment with fondness and appreciation.
I still remember how Margarita fights with the bullies every time they try to grab my bucket of diamonds. She valued my friendship so much that she was willing to jostle kids around to protect me and my precious catch for the day. I also recall Paulo’s generosity of giving some of his day’s pick so I’d win in the contest. He would secretly slip some gems into my pail and then pretend to be counting the diamonds in his neon green bin. It didn’t matter if he lost in the game as longs as I had plenty to take home.
From what I remember, children are generous to their peers and stand up for their friends when trouble arises. We never let each other down. Although kids in the sandbox have petty fights often, we solved our problems and became friends again almost instantly. There was no room for too much fighting. Enemies meant a smaller world and a bigger chance of losing in the game. If only grown-ups would learn from our kindergarten lessons, maybe the world would be a much better place to live in.
Now that I’m older and life is more complicated, I still look back to these wonderful childhood memories. It gives me a certain feeling of happiness knowing how carefree and content I was back then. And these are my kindergarten treasures: the lessons I discovered, the people I met, the friends I made, the games I played. They were all part of a great learning experience.
