My most vivid memory of kindergarten was when my teacher at Adair School in Crystal needed to leave the room. She had been reading a book about Woody Woodpecker to the class and asked me to read while she was gone. Most of the other children listened attentively, but a couple of the boys took the opportunity to play. Suddenly we heard a scream and turned to see that one of the boys had thrown a large wooden building block at the other. It hit him in the head and blood was streaming down his face. Needless to say, that ended any interest in Woody Woodpecker. Other kids started crying and screaming. The teacher rushed in and the two boys were escorted from the room — one most likely to the hospital and the other to the principal’s office. In spite of the bloodshed, the special enjoyment of reading to the other children stayed with me. Years later when I became an elementary school teacher, it led to my practice of reading daily to my class — but never about Woody Woodpecker.

Kathryn Beatty, McGregor