I remember sitting alone in my daycare when I was little. The daycare was a small place. It was supposed to be a house, and someone actually lived in it. It was next door to my future elementary school. The principal of that school was the one that lived in the daycare. She lived at the top of this ominous blue staircase. There were few rooms in the daycare, each one for a different age range. I spent most of my time in the main area. In this part of the daycare, there were two types of chairs; the normal ones were made out of plastic, but the others out of wood. There were only two wooden chairs, and they were different because they symbolized punishment. To everyone else, at least. When people were put on “time-out,” I never saw it as a punishment, just a time to stop talking. I loved to talk - still do, most of the time - but I thought that was interesting. That just by sitting someone in a chair, they become silent. Or they are supposed to become silent. I remember that sometimes I would choose to sit in the wooden chairs. I was never in trouble, I just wanted to sit, be quiet, and observe. I was amazingly thoughtful at age four.
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