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.
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