I was six-years-old, a first grader at the Welsh Public School (the neighborhood school which is no longer in existence), a block away from home in Philadelphia. My mother bought me a Russian dancer costume for Halloween. It was a costume with a beautiful tiara and black boots with gold braid. I dressed up and went to school that day in the afternoon session and sat in my seat. Then in came Sonja dressed as a Dutch boy with wooden shoes and a cap over her short, very blond hair. Miss Polina, our teacher, made a big fuss over us. She pretended she couldn’t guess who we were. She called other teachers and the principal, Mr. Parks, into the room, exclaiming the whole time that she didn’t know who we were. It was very exciting for both Sonja and me.
Later that day, Mr. Parks called us into his office. He had this large basket of fruit, and he sent a teacher with us to visit the local banks and other neighborhood business offices to offer them some fruit.
We drew everyone’s attention, and everyone admired our costumes. It was such a fun day and a Halloween I will never forget.