Until just now, I found the thought of pre-school graduation mildly sickening. Something for wealthy kids in uniforms, for overly sentimental, clingy parents who iron their pants.
But here I am. Looking forward to it. Wanting it. Needing a ceremony to help me say goodbye to the school that has been a refuge for me as a parent-in-training.
Jo’s school is a co-op, so I, like all the other parents, have been required to teach there once a week. Monday mornings for the past 2 years have been me, 4 other parents dosing caffeine, 2 teaching professionals and swarm of 26 pre-schoolers.
That first year was about recovering from the shame of having a very phyiscal boy. I just kept showing up every week, peeling Jo’s hot fist out of another kid’s hair, taking a deep breath as I helped the train kids put their track back together after Jo crashed through on his way to the bookshelf. The teachers there kept reminding me of Jo’s goodness. And the other parents didn’t cast me out. Sometimes, their kids acted like neanderthals too, which was always a relief.
This second year has been about slowing down and listening. “I see that you both want to sit in the same chair. What should we do?” And then I just stay there in the silence that follows, crouched down, looking at their open faces. “No. I can’t let you take the chair away. I’m going to hold it right here while we figure out what to do.” Then Voila! after 3 LONG minutes of questions, tears and ideas, it’s over. “Oh, you wanted the chair because it’s red and she wanted it because it’s next to a friend. Let’s get that other chair and move it over here too.”
These last weeks I’ve been surveying the dreamy landscape we’ve all created. Watching from afar as two kids tugging at the same cape decide to wear hats instead. Looking up from the tire swing to see a trio working out how to let another kid in on the magic ninja freeze tag game. And feeling like we belong. Because sometimes, other parents look just as cracked-out as me when they drop off their older kid with a sweaty, hollering toddler in tow.
What a gift it has been to have this school embrace Jo and me as we are. Unshowered and exhausted, kicking and screaming, easy and playful, nervous and open. Somehow, there’s been enough room for all of it.
Damn it. I’m totally going to be in the front row. Sitting in a chair too small for me. And crying all over myself at effing pre-school graduation.
I love the pix. of the kids around the table. that’s what caught my eye.and made me check out your post 🙂 the power of the visual….
great to hear CY! I’m the same way. Pictures are everything!
I was the mom who cried at Kindergarten orientation. My friends all made fun of me because it was only orientation but to me it was the beginning of her growing up. Now in August my second one will have Kindergarten orientation and I fully expect the water works to appear! sigh it does not get easier the more kids you have!
Reblogged this on chroniclesofmoi and commented:
ughh, i’m totally going to be the mom that cries and craves any type of graduation for my children; I do think i’ll need them just to accept that my babies are no longer babies.
I have no problem with these graduations as a celebration. My issue is when they’re so huge, with dresses, cars, having their hair done that there’s nothing else special left for when they leave the other stages of school. It’s definitely to be celebrated in some way. Well done for surviving it!
This is funny, beautiful and delightful. Thanks for sharing! I’m sure I’ll be crying my eyes out too when my daughter reaches preschool graduation!