Bear in the Big Blue House by Madison

Bear in the Big Blue House by Madison - October 2019 Scholarship Essay

I remember the first week of kindergarten. I remember the colorful room full of children that I didn't recognize; children that went to a different preschool than I, or that didn't go to preschool at all. I remember the green carpet, the beanbags strewn around the room, the endless shelves of picture books, and I remember hearing the voice of the Bear in the Big Blue House. I had heard this voice for as long as I could remember, but when I turned around, I instead saw a very tall and partially bald man. He told us, a classroom filled to the brim with five or six-year-olds, that his name was Mr. Bill. I remember us giggling, how we thought that was a ridiculous name. He told us his name was actually Mr. Douthit, but that no one could pronounce it. He sounded like the Bear in the Big Blue House; and he is my most loved teacher.
I remember when Mr. Bill took us into the room beside ours, with the new kindergarten teacher whose name I do not remember. We were told that half of us would be transferred to this new classroom, and that Mr. Bill would no longer be our teacher. I don’t remember seeing my name on any of the desks, but I do remember crying; crying that I didn’t want to leave Mr. Bill’s class. Crying that I didn’t like the new teacher.
I am quite certain that I was supposed to be transferred. I am also certain that I wasn’t transferred because of my tantrum.
Although I had gotten what I wanted, the beginning of school wasn’t kind to me. Kindergarten until third grade turned out to be a trying time with friends that seemed to not like me as much I thought they did; playdates were set up by parents who wanted their “girls to get together”, not because any of their ‘girls’ wanted to actually be around me. I never really had friends that I spent all of my time with, without conditions. Lot’s of children’s parents didn’t seem to like me; I was a born leader, yet it was perceived as “bossy”. I was worried that no one would like me enough to stay my friend.
However, I was smart; I knew how to read, I was good at early math, I knew the alphabet, I helped other kids in class when they seemed to be struggling.
All of this seems silly; it was only kindergarten after all; but at the time I believed that Mr. Bill was my only true friend, and was proved correct when I hadn’t made any better friends until sixth grade.
I just know that one thing had a lasting effect on my learning and my feelings of self-worth.
I was asked to sing at the fifth grade graduation when I was in Kindergarten. I did sign language to a song titled “Each of Us is a Flower”, and after I performed, Mr. Bill talked to me.
I don’t remember this conversation at all, and the only reason I know it happened was because my parents recorded it with their 1999 camcorder. Mr. Bill was knelt down to my level, and speaking to me about my performance. The one thing he said to me that I have kept close to me since then was that he thought I was “smart. You’re a special kid, Madison. I believe that you are going to do great things one day.”
We moved away from Alaska when I was going into my fourth grade year.
Since then, whenever I feel like there’s no point to further schooling, or that I’m going to fail in whatever I choose to do, I think about all the times that Mr. Bill was there for me when I needed a friend, or when I needed encouragement.
I haven’t spoken to him in eight years, but I still hear his voice in my head sometimes. I am a special kid, and I am going to do great things. Bear in the Big Blue House told me so.