I discovered I was adopted on my first day of kindergarten – I was five years old. My mother had trouble getting me out of the car seat and had to run me into Mrs. Matthei’s classroom. The teacher’s aide had me take a seat at a round table where two boys asked for the identity of the woman who brought me in. They wondered why I didn’t look like her. It was the first time I noticed there were physical differences between my mother and me.
“She’s adopted,” said a girl at the table. “Your real mommy is in China but she didn’t want you, so she gave you to a lady in America who can’t make babies.”