Preschool

As I write this, Liam is attending his second day of preschool. (Olivia is also asleep, and the house is very quiet. I'm not used to it yet.) As I'm sure we all remember, he did not make it into church basement, but is attending the preschool program at a local elementary school. Because he's now part of the official school system (as opposed to a church basement-type system), this whole experience has been a bit overwhelming. For me, that is. Liam's having fun.

Last Tuesday morning, Mark stayed home and we all got to troop into the preschool classroom for a meet and greet. Liam was a bit apprehensive; even though he loved the idea of going to school (and he loved his backpack), I'm not sure he really understood what it was all about. I had read him a few books about school, but that didn't seem to do it for him. So when I took some pictures outside, he couldn't really pull off a smile.

Please note the big pen in his hand, a present from Uncle James. Also note the lobster shirt. Somehow, the occasion called for slight dressing-up, so I put him in a button-up shirt. It was only in the car that I thought the teachers might start thinking of Liam as lobster boy.

Anyway, the orientation lasted an hour. For the first half hour, Liam wandered around the classroom checking things out and was introduced to the seven or eight teachers one at a time. Really, there are a lot of teachers and only about eight kids. At least three teachers are in the classroom at a time, while some others aren't really teachers: people like a speech therapist, an occupational therapist, and a DHH teacher - whatever that is - rotate through. But I think Liam touched everything in the room before he finally settled into the teacher's desk and tried to use her computer. I was grateful, however, as a couple of the kids were firmly locked onto their parents' legs.

See the tennis balls on all the chairs?

After thirty minutes, all the kids settled in for a story time while Mark and I got a tour of the school. It was at this time we learned just how serious preschool is when your child is in the public school system. Liam has school pictures next week. He will get those Scholastic book catalogs each month. He will bring cupcakes on his birthday. He will bring no nuts to school, ever. There are Behavior Expectations and Progress Reports. There is a Dress Code. There are Policies and Procedures. There are Telephone Trees. And there are "I'm a Preschool Parent" buttons so we strange adults won't make the other parents nervous when we hang around the school. It's a lot to throw at a mom when she's about to leave her kid with strangers for the first time.

And the next day we did leave him. For two-and-a-half hours.

I cried. Of course I cried. I think I was the only one who did cry, but all the mothers I passed on my way to the parking lot sympathized. Of course I had forgotten my "I'm a Preschool Parent" button, so who knows who they all thought I was.

Well, he did great. Of course. I spoke to two teachers, both of whom said he was a good listener and made friends. He hugged one teacher on the way out, which I take as a good sign.

When I repeatedly asked him about his day he was noncommittal at first, but eventually I got the real story: "I had da chicken and Spencer took da chicken so I hit him in the head." That made me pause. So I asked, with a stern frown, "What did Spencer do when you hit him?" thinking Please don't say cry. He answered, "Spencer hit me in da head right dere [pointing to his face] and the teacher said, 'No fighting!'" So we had a little talk about hitting right then and another talk this morning. It can't be too unusual, or the teachers would have mentioned it to me, right?

Comments

[Kari]

Lobster Boy - that's great!

Its not a big deal until you get incident reports. Do you remember when I went through this with boy?

I am hoping to have him home on Saturday!

K