Grandpa’s preschool commencement speech

My speech will be brief, seeing as how the entire front row of graduates seems to be squirming already, and … uh … I believe one of them has a hand up and is squirming in a particularly urgent way, Sister Mary Agnes, if you could just … thank you. (Well, at least he raised his hand … damn, now I have to go.)

As I was saying, I will make my remarks as short as possible, so that we can get outside and enjoy that beautiful sunshine (and maybe get to the golf course by my tee time). And, after the presentation of diplomas — and a few more songs from our rising 3-year-olds class — we can all retire to the reception area for some delicious Batman and Cinderella cupcakes and punch! … Oh … well, I didn’t know they didn’t know, Sister. Settle down, please, children! There are plenty of cupcakes for everyone, and they are terrific rewards for good behavior. (Where’s my reward, huh? Where is the beer and wine reception area?)

So, let’s all sit nicely and listen to a little story, shall we? Back when I was a young boy just about your age … yes, my good man, what is it? … I’m sorry, Justin is it? … No, Justin, there were no dinosaurs back then, ha ha, yes, they had cars, but … yes, I used to have hair. My, my, what a keen and probing mind you have there, Justin! I’d love to have a nice talk with you sometime, but if we don’t move along, someone might eat your cupcake! Oh, dear … no, don’t cry, Justin, Sister says there are plenty of cupcakes, I was just teasing, ha ha. (Yeah, you don’t see Justin’s grandfather up here, do you? Nosiree. Justin’s grandfather’s probably on the back nine by now … I’m taking his cupcake!)

Anyway, when I was a little boy, there was no such thing as preschool or kindergarten. Why, we didn’t go to school until first grade, when we were all around 6 years old … what’s that, young fella? … Devin? … Your sister is 6? Well, isn’t that nice. So, when I was 6 and went to the first grade … you what your sister? … Hate your sister? Oh, no, I don’t think you hate your sister, ha ha, you love your sister, Devin … well, you’ll love your sister much more when you get a little older, ha ha. (God, please, I will call my annoying sister and her deadbeat husband tonight if you’ll just get me out of here!)

Now, where was I? Oh yes, when I was 6 years old and went to first grade, I was scared, just as I’m sure you were on your first day of preschool, right? (Why why why a question, you idiot?!) Oh, you weren’t afraid? … And you, either? … Or you? … OK, I think I get the picture now. Yes, Sister, thank you for the help, settle down! Well, you are all braver children than I was, I guess. … No, it’s not nice to call someone “Scaredy-boo-boo Head,” Justin, not if we want those cupcakes, remember, ha ha?

OK, back to me. So, I was afraid when I went to first grade that day, because none of my little friends was going to my school, so I thought maybe I wouldn’t have anyone to play with, you know? … Pardon me, little lady? … Sonia? … You play with three friends? … That’s so nice, but I … Teresa, Carrie and Johnny? Oh, you said Jenny, I’m sorry. No, boys aren’t stinky, I bet you’ll like them later on, ha ha. (Oh, get a grip, Sister, you get what you pay for.)

Anyhow, there I was, a frightened little boy in the first grade, sure that no one would like me, and the teacher told us each to pick a partner, and when I turned around, there was a little girl with long curly blond hair, and do you know who that was? … No, Justin, it wasn’t Goldilocks, ha ha, it was a little girl named Maria. And, when Maria and I grew up, we got married and now Maria is Freddie’s grandmother! Isn’t that something? … No, Justin, her name isn’t “Mrs. Scaredy-boo-boo Head,” ha ha. (Just wait till I see your grandfather, son; he’s going to get a nine-iron wrapped around his neck!)

Thank you very much.

Vicki Wentz’s column, which appears here on Sundays, is published in newspapers across the country. She is a high school teacher who lives in Chapel Hill, N.C. Readers may contact her at vwentz@mindspring.com.