I stood there—waiting.
“Don’t be shy,” Miss Leah said.
“Oh, he’s not,” Mom told her. “Go on, Tomie. Show Miss Leah what you can do.”
“I will when the music starts,” I said. “I can’t dance without music.”
“That’s it,” Mom said. “I think maybe we should wait until next year. It’ll be better for everyone. ”
So Mom had taken me back in September, when I was five. This time there were a lot of girls in the dance studio, too.
Miss Leah had lined us all up. She was wearing a short, swirly skirt and a blouse tied in a knot at her waist. Her shiny black hair was pulled back with a scarf. And she had on glittery silver tap shoes. She looked just like someone in the movies.
“Tomie, come and stand in the middle,” Miss Leah said. “Face the mirrors, everyone, and watch what I am doing. Up-back-down-up-back-down-slap-slap-up-back-down. ”
I couldn’t keep my eyes off Miss Leah’s silver tap shoes. Mine were black patent leather. The metal taps were on the toes and heels on the bottom of the shoes.
“All right, class, now you try it.”
We all went Up-back-down-up-back-down-slap-slap-up-back-down.
“Very good,” Miss Leah said. “Now let’s try it with music.”
A lady named Mrs. Anderson sat down at the piano. She began to play. Well, it was like the music told me just what to do! I loved it! Dum-de-dum-de-dum.
I’d go to Miss Leah’s every Saturday. Another little boy joined the class. His name was Joey. We learned all kinds of steps—time steps, “shuffle-off-to-Buffalo,” and things like that.
At our first class after the Christmas vacation, Miss Leah said, “Class, I am going to begin to teach you the dance number you will do in our recital at the end of the dancing-school year. It will be a military tap number.”
“What’s a recital?” I asked my mom on the way home.
“That’s a whole show of all the children doing different numbers. Everyone wears costumes. There are scenery and lights—just like the movies,” she answered.
Wow! I thought. Just like the movies.
I learned the steps quickly. Every week Miss Leah taught us new ones. We added those to the ones we had learned before. Soon we would have the whole dance number learned.
The mothers all had little notebooks and they wrote down the new steps. My mom read the steps to me every night while I practiced. I was getting very good.
One Saturday in February Miss Leah taught us the drum roll. It sounded just like the rat-a-tat-tat of a drum. The class was having a hard time getting it just right.
I knew I could get it, so I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of the taps Miss Leah made with her silver tap shoes, and BINGO—I got it! I could tell Miss Leah was pleased.
After class Miss Leah asked Mom and me if we would wait a minute and talk to her.
“You know, Mrs. dePaola, Tomie is doing so well that I’d like to give him something special to do in the recital. I can’t give him a solo in the military number because that number is for the whole class to perform together.
“But I’m going to have a section of Mother Goose characters, and I’d like Tomie to do ‘The Farmer in the Dell’ with Joan Ciotti as the farmer’s wife and Tomie as the farmer. I even have ideas for the costumes. What do you think?”
Mom looked at me. I held my breath. “Well, Tomie, it’s up to you.”
Up to me? Are you kidding? Just me and Joan Ciotti? Yes, yes, yes. After all, Joan Ciotti was a second-year student, and she even took private lessons.
“It will mean spending a little extra time here on Saturdays.”
That was fine with me. The more dancing, the better!
After class the next Saturday, Mom and I stayed because Joan Ciotti and I were going to have our first practice together. Joan was a very good dancer and she told me that she was going to be a dancer when she grew up. So she was serious about it all, just like me.
Then I couldn’t believe it. Miss Leah told me something else.
“Tomie, because you have such a good voice, I want you to sing a song in the recital, too. I’m not sure which song yet, but we’ll talk about that next week. Now let’s get started on ‘The Farmer in the Dell.’ I want you and Joan to try a few things.”
I wasn’t dancing with Shirley Temple, but Joan Ciotti would do just fine. I was on my way to becoming a STAR—singing and dancing on the stage.
Chapter Five
Our kindergarten class was going to put on a play for the whole school. We were going to do “Peter Rabbit.”
I had played the part of John Alden, the pilgrim, in the Thanksgiving play we did for the first grade.
I didn’t forget any of my lines or anything. The way Miss Immick smiled at me when she said “Peter Rabbit” made me sure that she was going to pick me to play Peter. I knew the story so well, and besides, Miss Leah said that I had “natural stage presence.”
As much as I loved being on stage, my best friend, Jeannie, didn’t. She was shy and very tall for her age. So I decided that Jeannie should play the part of the mouse who mumbles because she has peas in her mouth when Peter asks for directions out of Mr. MacGregor’s garden.
She wouldn’t have to remember any lines, just mumble.
I showed her how to puff out her cheeks and say, “Mumble, mumble, mumble.”
Every day on the way home, we practiced. Finally the day for giving out the parts arrived.
“All right, boys and girls, let’s bring our chairs into a circle.” We each had a little colored chair with our names on a cardboard tag tied to the back, just like the “naps” mats.
Jeannie sat down next to me. I could tell she was nervous. I leaned over very quietly and whispered, “Now, when Miss Immick asks who would like to play the mouse, raise your hand and show how you can mumble. And don’t forget...”
“Tommy, there you go, talking again. Won’t you ever learn? Since you can’t pay attention, you will not play Peter Rabbit. Peter will be played by Johnny Gregory. You will be Flopsy.”
“But Flopsy is a girl,” I protested.
“Not in our play!” Miss Immick said. “Now, boys and girls, I will read you the story.”
Well, I was certainly disappointed.
I would be Flopsy along with Nancy Kiphut and Carolyn Kamens as Mopsy and Cottontail. We had to make our own rabbit ears and wear little red capes made out of stretchy crepe paper.
At dancing school, Miss Leah had told us how to act on stage. “When someone is talking or singing or dancing, be sure to look at them and react. That’s one of the most important things to do when you are on stage.”
That’s what I’d do. Flopsy would react to everything that was going on with Peter. But I’d wait until the real performance and not do anything when we were just practicing. It would be a surprise!
So in front of the whole school—the students from all the grades; the teachers; Miss Burke, the principal; Miss Philomena, the school secretary; Miss Luby, the nurse; and Mr. Walters, the school janitor—and our parents, Flopsy reacted.
When Peter went into Mr. MacGregor’s garden and he wasn’t supposed to, I clasped my hands in shock.
Every time Peter did something, I did something, too. I waved my arms around. I covered my eyes. I put my hands over my ears. I opened my mouth wide in surprise.
I could hear the audience laughing. The grown-ups even clapped a couple of times.
When it was over, Flopsy had stolen the show. Jean Minor was great as Mrs. Rabbit. Jack Rule was scary as Mr. MacGregor. Jeannie was wonderful as the mumbling mouse with peas in her mouth. Johnny Gregory was okay as Peter. But I was the hit of the play!
Miss Mulligan, the fifth-grade teacher who played the piano at our auditorium shows, came up to me and said, “Well, show. You’re a real ham!” I looked over at my mom. She waved.
How proud she must be, I thought. Miss Immick didn’t say much, except, “Boys and girls, you all did a very nice job.�
�� She didn’t say anything special to me. I supposed she was sorry that she hadn’t asked me to be Peter Rabbit after all.
Our parents all came into the kindergarten room to take us home.
“Well, Tomie,” my mom said, “that was quite a performance.”
I smiled a big smile.
“I think you owe Johnny Gregory and Miss Immick an apology. It wasn’t very nice of you to take all the attention. After all, you were just one of the bunnies, not the star. So tomorrow you’ll say you’re sorry to Johnny and Miss Immick. Okay?”
I looked down at the floor and nodded.
Jeannie came over to say hello. “Jeannie,” Mom said, “you were perfect. Congratulations.”
“Tomie showed me how to do it,” Jeannie said. “He should have been Peter.”
The next day at school I said I was sorry to Miss Immick and Johnny Gregory. I did it when no one else could hear me, though. I guess I was only a little sorry.
Chapter Six
One afternoon in February I saw my mom sitting in the principal’s office. Our class was on our way back from the “lavatories,” or boys’ and girls’ rooms. She didn’t see me.
When we got to our room Miss Philomena came in to watch us while Miss Immick went to a “meeting” in Miss Burke’s office.
The bell rang to announce that school was over for the day. Miss Immick hadn’t come back. Miss Philomena said I was to wait.
Buddy came into the kindergarten room.
“Boy, are you in trouble,” he said. “Mom is here having a meeting about you! We have to wait so we can all go home together. Are you going to get it!” Then he sat down with a smirk on his face.
What did I do now? I wondered.
I had apologized for “Peter Rabbit,” so that couldn’t be why Mom was here.
Was it for my singing during “naps”?
Was it for my waiting for my mom inside the school building to go to Woolworth’s instead of waiting outside, where we were supposed to wait? But that was way at the beginning of the year.
Or was it for telling all the teachers that my mother was so smart that she could stand on her head? Maybe they had asked her to come in and show them.
What could it be?
Suddenly I heard Miss Burke talking out in the hall. “Well, thank you for coming in, Mrs. dePaola. I’m sure you can take care of everything. ”
Oh, boy, here it comes! I thought.
Then I heard Miss Immick’s voice. Was I surprised at what she said!
“Tommy is really a very good boy —different from his brother—a little too talkative, but so interested in everything. He’s a joy to have in class,” she ended.
“Yeah, I bet!” Buddy piped up.
My mother popped her head in and said, “Okay, boys. Let’s go.”
Buddy poked me.
“What did Miss Burke say about Tomie?” he asked my mom.
“Never you mind,” Mom said. That’s all she said. I was very nervous. When was I going to get it? Probably at home.
When we got there, Mom told Buddy to go outside and play. I could tell he wanted to hang around to see me get it.
“Now, Tomie, I know you are wondering why I was at school today. I want you to know that Miss Immick told me that she thinks you talk a little too much, but that you are smart and creative. That was the first reason for the meeting.
“The second is that there is going to be a big Valentine’s Day party for the two kindergartens and the two first grades. Miss Immick asked me if I would make the valentine cookies and sheet cakes for the party.” (My mom always made sheet cakes for our birthdays. They were huge cakes, one layer high, made in a big, flat pan. They were so big that we’d take them to school for the whole class.)
“The party is going to be held in the hallway between the classrooms. The teachers want to have a valentine mailbox. Instead of one in every room, they want a big one for all the kindergarteners and first graders to use together. It will be put on a table across from Miss Burke’s office, right at the main entrance to the school.
“Now for the big reason for the meeting. They want you to make it! What do you think?”
Well, I almost fainted—first from knowing that I wasn’t going to get it, and second because it was such an honor!
“Can you help me?” I asked.
“Of course,” Mom said.
The next few weeks were pretty exciting for me. I asked my grandfather, Tom, for a big cardboard box from his grocery store and some of the shiny white paper he wrapped the meat in to cover it.
Mom helped me glue on the paper very neatly.
Then we went to Woolworth’s and the new five- and ten-cent store, Kresge‘s, for red construction paper, ribbon, and shiny stick-on hearts. We even bought a package of white paper doilies that looked like circles of lace. I made drawings of cupids and doves. I cut them out and pasted them on the sides.
I worked hard on that valentine mailbox. My dad cut a slot in the top for the cards to go through, and we made sure the bottom could open and close. My dad said they would probably want to use it again, so I should make it as sturdy as possible.
Dad was right. They used that valentine box the whole time I was in elementary school.
The party was great. We all wore party hats. “Mailmen” passed out the valentines. (I made all of mine myself.) Mom baked four delicious sheet cakes with pink frosting and little heart-shaped candies with messages on them. The cookies were heart shaped, too, with red and white icing and little silver sprinkles on some and cinnamon candy hearts on others. We had pink punch, and by the end of the party, everybody had red lips and tongues.
All the grown-ups admired the valentine mailbox and told me what a nice job I had done.
Mrs. Bowers, the art teacher who came to visit our school every so often to give art lessons, happened to be there.
“Well,” she said, “I can’t wait to get you in art. We’ll have a good time together.”
I got real excited about that! But I’d have to wait until second grade for art lessons with Mrs. Bowers.
Miss Immick looked very proud of me. (I had made a special valentine for her with lots of little windows to open and lace doilies glued inside.) “It’s one of the nicest valentines I have ever received,” she said. “Thank you, Tommy.”
From that day on, Miss Immick and I got along really, really well. I guess she was a good teacher after all!
Chapter Seven
The time for the new baby was getting close. Mom let me put my hand on her tummy so I could feel the baby kick. I whispered, “Hello, baby sister.”
Mom told me again for the fortieth time that we couldn’t be sure if the baby would be a boy or a girl. But I just told her that I wanted a baby sister with a red ribbon in her hair.
Mom was busy getting the just-in-case room ready. Dad and Buddy painted it yellow. I made pictures to hang on the walls.
I went to Perlin’s store with my mom to buy nightgowns, booties, and tiny sweaters. All the clothes looked like doll’s clothes. (When Jeannie saw them, she told me to tell my mom that we could borrow her Dy-Dee Doll’s clothes if we wanted to.)
Then Mom bought something that made me laugh—“Belly Bands” that wrapped around the baby’s tummy.
“They must be to keep the baby’s belly button from falling off,” I said. Mom laughed, too.
Next we went to Woolworth’s and bought decals to decorate the baby’s crib. I picked out ones just right for a baby sister.
She was going to have such a pretty room. I saw Mom buy some other ones, just in case it was (please, no) a baby brother.
On the way home Mom told me that when it was time for her to go to the hospital, Aunt Nell would come and take care of Buddy and me while my dad went to work. He had an important new job in Hartford as the State Barber Examiner. (This meant that he had to go all over Connecticut visiting barbershops to make sure they were clean and followed all the health rules.)
I loved Aunt Nell. She was my grandfather
Tom’s sister and lots of fun. Whenever she took care of Buddy and me for my mom, we would all have tea with milk and sugar and a plate of crackers and peanut butter. She also made great hamburgers with meat from Tom’s grocery store.
But something happened that changed everything.
Nana Fall-River came to Meriden. Nana Fall-River was my Italian grandmother. I called her that because she lived in Fall River, Massachusetts. She was on her way to visit her daughters, Aunt Kate and Aunt Clothilde, in the Bronx in New York City. But she wanted to stop in Meriden to see our new house.
When Nana Fall-River arrived, she walked in, took off her hat and coat, opened up her big black purse, took out her apron and put it on. She went straight to the kitchen without even looking at the house.
Nana Fall-River always traveled with her apron and lots of food.
(Nana Fall-River thought that Mom didn’t cook right and that my dad must be starving to death. He wasn‘t, of course.)
Uncle Nick had driven Nana Fall-River over from his house, where she was staying with him and Aunt Loretta. I had a picture in my head of Nana Fall-River in the back of the car surrounded by pots and boxes of food.
I watched as Aunt Loretta and her daughter, my cousin Helen, carried in all the food-first the big pan of spaghetti sauce, which Nana Fall-River called “gravy,” with meatballs and lots of other stuff in it. (We children were never allowed a meatball when we went to Nana Fall-River’s house. Meat was for grown-ups.)
Then they carried in jar after jar of tomatoes and peppers, big cans of olive oil, and other things Nana Fall-River had made. She even had loaves of Italian bread from the bakery near her house in Fall River.
Here We All Are Page 2
