the little farmhouse.


when i was four, my parents (most likely mom's idea) sent me to a preschool in rancho cordova called the little farmhouse. it actually was a farmhouse. they had chickens, goats, and other small animals trapped within a ghetto makeshift wire fence. i didn't like going near the animals because it stunk. i liked the farmhouse okay, though. it had a sweet smell, something like a mixture of animal crackers, apple juice and crayons. but i could be making that up. sometimes, in my present-day adult life, i'll smell it. or maybe i'm just imagining that i smell it. either way, i'll smell it, and i'll think, smells like the little farmhouse.

i don't know how my mom found this place, or why she thought i should go there. probably she saw it while driving along folsom boulevard and thought, well, this is as good a place as any. she enrolled me for fall, and i was shocked that my days of sitting at home and watching t.v. would be coming to an end. what? i have to do stuff now? if i remember correctly, i wasn't excited to go to preschool. as a kid, i never liked change. when hearing that i would be attending a preschool called the little farmhouse, i probably had the same reaction as i did whenever my mom told me i'd have to go see dr. dentinger, my giant of a pediatrician.

i don't remember much about preschool, probably because nothing ever happened there. i remember there were about ten of us, and i was the only asian kid. the only darker kid there was a little mexican girl named and angela, and seeing her made me realize i was a straight male. i liked her. i liked angela. and of course, since i liked her, i never talked to her. we had but one awkward encounter, and that's when she was carrying a tray full of toy silverware - maybe it was a plastic tea set - and i was in her way. i remember her looking straight at me and giggling and giggling, and i couldn't tell if that meant maybe she liked me, or if she was laughing at me because i was just some fool in her way. i think i laughed, too, probably turned bright red, and got the hell out of her way.

not much has changed since then.

there were older kids at the little farmhouse, but we preschoolers never saw much of them. we walked past a bunch of them once, during nap time, and i wondered what they were doing. it was a strange sight to me, even then. all the kids were lying down on the carpet, lined up in a row next to the bookshelves and cubbies. mrs. genie, our teacher, told us to be quiet as we walked past, so as not to disturb them. i remember one kid faking sleep. he looked right at me, and he might've even sat up. at that moment, i hoped that when i got older, i wouldn't be forced to take a nap during the day.

there isn't much else to tell, since there isn't much else i can remember. probably mrs. genie read to us, and we learned about sharing and the alphabet, and other simple things bert and ernie could've told me about for free. it was just a year. day after day of being around these kids who didn't look like me and figuring out how i was supposed to live among these people, how we were supposed to communicate, and tolerate one other.

when i visit sacramento, i look for the school sometimes, but i don't think it's there anymore. all i see are trees and vacant looking motels. i wonder where it all went.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I went to the farmhouse as well :) I had a good time there and how i learned boys pee standing up lol

Anonymous said...

My parents owned the Farmhouse, and I grew up there as my school and home. It's still there and now houses a Korean Presbyterian Church. Yes, the chicken, goats, and even the ghetto wire fence ... all long gone.

The land is still actively used for a new community purpose. Miraculously, it transformed to match my Dad's life dream.

Anonymous said...

Awww I worked at the Farmhouse!! cried when they closed.... what a wonderful place it was.... great memories...