проверить текст Those 15-20 minutes from home to kindergarten and back were like exploratory journeys for me.I walked through the small streets , as if in the countryside, rustic, one-story houses. If it was autumn, a smoke was rising from every chimney to the sky. There was no asphalt, only paths that had been treaded over the years.
There were two rivers in our village: the Uba and a mountain stream that looked more like a small creek. My kindergarten was right next to that river. I remember the water gurgling in it, I remember the crowns of the big trees. It seemed to me then, as if the town was immersed in the green. All this was very interesting for a small child. It was probably my curiosity that saved me from the stress of moving. I was observing the world around me, the butterflies, the midges. It was a time of change in my life. When you get to a new town, you don't know the streets, you don't know where to go and you want to learn everything by yourself. It's scary, but it's interesting.

When I was assigned to kindergarten, I was withdrawn. As I remember it now: middle age group, and I, who did not agree with such arbitrariness, a little girl who wanted to be in the older group by all means. All the children around seemed small but I felt big and mature. So, while the other children were playing and running around in the yard, I sat proudly in a chair all day long.
Maybe it was a kind of "newcomer syndrome", I was not really accepted at first, although I was obedient and did not quarrel with anyone.
But there was one thing I was scolded for - refusing to eat. It was amazing to me how other kids ate it. All the kids at the table were happily gorging on pea soup or meatball soup, but I couldn't bring myself to swallow even one spoonful. In my mind it was food that people don't eat. I'm fine with it now, of course, but at the time it seemed completely inedible to me.I now recall feeling very stiff in my chair, as if I had swallowed a crowbar . I was afraid to move so that no one would notice my untouched bowl of soup.
I was uncomfortable with people coming up to me all the time and asking, "Is everything okay?
"Did you eat?", "Why aren't you playing with everyone else?"
The only thing I liked was class time. We used to sit and make rectangles with colored pencils. Nobody bothered me then. But it didn't work out for me to play together. In my free time, when we were allowed to play I silently took a chair, put it up against the wall and waited until it was finished. I could not understand their flippancy and tomfoolery, I looked at them like an animal on a beast: running, screaming, and I honestly don't understand what it's all for. After waiting for the end of, I would leave kindergarten and walk home, alone again, because my mother was always working.