The Biters

Not many people can say they were the Pre-School Ho but guess what?  I can.  Ok, I’m not going to lie: most of pre-school is a giant blur.  I mean, I was 4.  I can hardly remember two weeks ago, let alone 30 years.  But there are a few parts of pre-school that I remember:

1. They served macaroni and cheese a lot.
2. There was a “bad” class.  All the biters were in that class.
3. The third-grader who came to pre-school to help out in the afternoons used to take me in the closet and kiss me.

Scandal!  (Incidentally, according to Microsoft Word’s Translate feature, “scandal” is “scandal” in French.  I suspect this is incorrect.)  Well it’s not like he sold me into slavery or brought his little friends with him to have a go at it.  Clearly he was experiencing some male...stuff...and given that I was a 4 year old who was the size of an 8 year old, I guess he figured I was fair game.  I didn’t see anything wrong with any of it.  Being in the closet was fine and he would put his little lips against mine for half a second a few times.  Not a big deal. 

Unless we got caught.

I recall this happening several times.  The teacher would whip the closet door open, shedding light on our tryst, and yell at us.  Then I would get in trouble.

I would get in trouble.  Me.  The one who was 4. 

My punishment?  I had to have lunch and/or snack time with The Biters.  This was truly a punishment because I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced a little kid who bites but it’s rather vicious.  Like little snakes, they were, just waiting to strike for any bullshit reason.  There was a little blonde one named Colleen who always had snot-nose and eyed me like I was a teething ring.  I would sit across from her, with one eye on my macaroni and cheese and the other on her pointy little shark teeth.  Inevitably, she would strike and then I would cry.  Biters are the worst kids on the planet.  Every kid tries the biting thing but it’s considered very low class and parents nip that shit in the bud immediately upon first strike.  My 16 month old niece is starting to bite but, by God, she will not be a Biter.  If she is, I’m sure my brother and his wife will send her to a farm somewhere, with the other heathens. 

I don’t know if my pre-school teacher, who was clearly a genius, ever told my mother that I was making out with an 8 year old in the closet but I certainly hope that woman isn’t working in law enforcement.  I also don’t know if the skeevy 8 year old got into trouble or if his parents were informed that he was kissing a 4 year old.  Perhaps he’s a registered sex offender or a happily married tax accountant who has little memory of the brown girl he used to befoul.   Colleen, no doubt, went on to become America’s first Republican candidate who based her entire campaign on a return to the Mesoamerican traditions of human sacrifice and cannibalism.