Everything I need to know I Iearned in Kindergarten, right?

Do you remember that book, the self help bestseller of a decade or so ago - All I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten? It was written by a Unitarian minister, Rober Fulghum, and was filled with simple kid themed ideas with which to guide your life: share everything, play fair, hold hands and stick together, etc.

At the time it came out, I thought it was cute but rather laughably simplistic. I, of course, had moved far beyond schoolyard politics - or so I thought. How then can it be that at the ripe old age of - almost - 43, I feel like I'm suddenly marooned again in the corner of the playground, the butt of whispered laughter and pointing fingers?

The neighborhood situation - which I have discussed in earlier posts - has suddenly bubbled over into a burning sticky mess. DeeDee and Jeff have decided that I am Enemy Number One, the Wicked Witch of the West - and I'm not talking any fun Broadway musical witch, either. It makes no sense - but when has common sense had anything to do with it? I now understand why four families have chosen to move rather than deal with them. The rest of the neighborhood knows that they're crazy and say they don't believe any of the gossip they're attempting to spread about us .... but it's amazing the level of fear and paranoia that can be spread by two unbalanced people in a small, enclosed community.

So now my boys cannot play with DeeDee and Jeff's children across the street and vice versa. And the other moms in the neighborhood seem to be studiously avoiding our house in their round robin of playdates. They were already avoiding DeeDee and Jeff's - but what has happened to us? Have we somehow been tainted by the whole brouhaha?

I couldn't believe that I was actually brought to tears yesterday to hear the neighborhood kids all laughing at a playdate next door - while mine sat inside, alone. Suddenly I was back at school again: the smell of floor wax and chalkdust, the taste of pb&j on my lips, the echoey sound of kids footsteps running down empty hallways. There I was, on the edge of the playground, desperate to have someone to play with. The loneliness, the pain, the feeling of utter unwantedness. A tiny unformed kernel that I would never let them hurt me quite this badly ever again, tasting bitter, so bitter, in my mouth.

Was it the pain of my children's rejection that upset me so much yesterday? I really don't think they minded all that much. After all, Spongebob was on tv. They didn't even notice that Mommy was crying. Or was it really me? Was this really all about me and the fact that forty odd years later, I am still struggling to understand that there will always be children who either cannot or will not learn the true lessons of kindergarten.

To play fair. To share your toys. And most importantly, to hold hands and stick together - no matter what happens.