I learned to read before starting kindergarten. Mother had a book with pictures and activities for each letter of the alphabet. One page showed a lower case H looking like a chair. You can run in circles until you’re tired, then sit in a chair and pant, “Huh, huh, huh.” You’re making the sound the letter H does: “Huh.” I wanted to go to school so badly I could taste it. Wonderful things would happen there. I’d learn amazing new stuff. I’d meet great kids who were just like me. At the same time I was terrified I wouldn’t learn to tie my shoes before the first day of school. What if I was the only one in the class who couldn’t master the loop and bunny? Most big steps in my life are like this; a thrill of excitement that things may turn out the way I hope, a thrill of terror that they won’t. I’m usually a little right on both counts. Huh.
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