The thick, heavy scent of blunted, broken crayons and rough reams of low-grade paper – a smell that pervades the elementary classrooms of my memory. You’d think it might rather be a pungent miasma of the squirming, unwashed bodies, funky shoes, forgotten lunches, and maybe a little bit of puke and piddle but, no, when I think “kindergarten” there it is; the unmistakable, unavoidable, almost (but not quite) pleasant redolence of crayons and paper.
Now, I don’t know about you but I was never all that taken with coloring as a kid. Oh, I had crayons, colored pencils, pens, and markers at my disposal but I never really moved much past the primitive, “random scribble of color inside (and outside) the frame” approach.
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