At my old daycare, they told me blue was the color
of the blue construction paper pinned to the blackboard.
 
But I knew blue was the color of my mother’s eyes,
of my soft blanket,
a periwinkle and a blueberry
and the many colors of the sky.
 
At my old daycare, they didn’t ask if I knew about blue.
 
At my old daycare, they gave me some of their blue paper
and they told me to glue some at the top of a white paper for sky
and some at the bottom of the page for water.
 
At my new daycare, sometimes I like to paint
my whole paper blue,
my hands, not past my wrists,
or mix all the colors of the sky.

And one day, I found a new shade of blue I’d never seen before.
 
At my old daycare, they told me a circle was that shape
they pinned to the blackboard.
 
But I knew a circle was the shape
of me rolling down a hill,
of the tires on my Daddy’s car, coming to pick me up,
of the sun in the day, and the moon at night,
and the shape of a ripple spreading across a puddle
into which a stone has been flung.
 
At my old daycare, they didn’t ask if I knew about circles.
 
At my old daycare, they made me glue circles
onto a bigger circle.
 
At my new daycare, I can cut all the shapes I want
and all the colors
and glue them just so
until I’m done.
 
At my old daycare, they showed us ABC’s on the bulletin board.
 
But I knew the important letter: the ‘S’ for my name,
that’s in the “shhh” of my mother whispering me to sleep,
and the shiny red signs at which our car stops,
curvy like a snake,
sibilant.
 
They didn’t seem to care that I knew about ‘S’.
 
At my old daycare, they made us form letters out of playdough.
We couldn’t even pick which letter to make.
 
At my new daycare, I squish the playdough
and poke it
and roll it and pound it.
Sometimes I make birthday cakes,
or a family of worms,
or something that isn’t anything at all.
 
At my old daycare, when we fought over a toy,
they said, “If you can’t share I’m going to take it.
And if you keep arguing, I’ll give you both a time out.”
 
At my new daycare, we don’t have time out.
Our teachers say, “I see you both want the toy.
Can you think of a way we can solve this problem?”
 
At my old daycare, I hung up my heart
with my coat in my cubby.
 
Some days, I felt so tired, I forgot I had it
and left it behind.
 
On those days, my mom didn’t like the way I looked,
so she searched until she found my new day care. 

And now, I can keep my heart with me all the time.

Tannis Longmore for
Community Children's Center 1995