Kindergarten Conundrum Anonymous

Almost every weekday morning, I awoke from a consuming sleep and lethargically stumbled into the bathroom. After managing to grip my toothbrush and pour my revoltingly minty toothpaste onto the painfully sharp bristles, I cleared my mouth of bacteria. I changed from functional nightwear into a fabulous Gap Kids sweatsuit and Reebok sneakers. Flanked by a parent and a babysitter, I left my midtown high-rise for an uptown brownstone - the Stephen Wise Preschool.

Preschool was the center of my world. It was the only place to which I had an allegiance; the only place that I really cherished. It was a place of assured regularity - a bastion of redeeming consistency. It was a place where I could pursue an independent path while receiving endless swathes of support. It was a place where I could socialize with peers, bond with tamed beasts (including a sea of goldfish and Bernard the Dalmatian), and have a few minutes of tranquility to myself.

More than anything else, preschool entertained me. Using nothing more than legos, I constructed suburban neighborhoods and bustling metropolises. For the weekly round of show-and-tell, I boasted about my newest contraptions, be it a police helicopter with flashing red lights, or a new backpack that...