At the End of the Day*

. . . they're another year older!

Yep, school is out!

Summer has begun!

And so what are they doing right now?

Yep.

Playing school.

Meanwhile, I'm upstairs having my own little cry because school is out--I can't believe Bud and Sis are first graders, almost six years old! I loved (trusted, was supported by, was inspired by) their teachers and will miss them next year (just like I missed the preschool teachers at the end of last year). And the kids will be in school full day, which seems so strange. But it's official: they're in the same class, which should then loop to second grade together. On the downside, I'm worried that I ended the year the way I started it, on my back (well, I'm further along than I was in early September!), and have concerns about being fun Mommy (or even capable Mommy, since I can't drive yet--I'm told sitting and driving is really hard on the back) this summer . . . and so am outsourcing a lot of my role. Nothing a good crying jag won't relieve. But better the change be hard for me than for them.

Happy first day of summer!

(really, I'm happy. In that weird conflicted happy way, which I remember well from last days of school of my childhood, 'cos I really always liked school.)

-=-=-=-=-=

*Are you catching all these Les Mis references? First "One Day More," and now "At the End of the Day." Sure, it has nothing to do with school, but it fits . . . .

Singin' Out the Year

Today was the kiddos' end-of-year kindergarten concert. And I got to go! It was wonderful--to be out, to be back at the kids' school, to celebrate their wonderful first year of elementary school, to feel "normal" again. Sure, I had on my huge brace and was moving slowly and spent lots of time on the nurse's couch to rest and everyone who hadn't seen me in two months kindly asked how I was, so it wasn't that normal but it was totally do-able.

There was a slide show (that I missed and will see later, cos Mama recorded it) and then the kids all marched in. They did a poem altogether, which each class chanting a line in unison--Sis was proud that her class went first. Then each class sang approximately two songs. Sis happily danced with her music teacher for "Jump Jim Joe." And Bud wiggled his body with happy abandon during his class's songs. Then the whole kindergarten sang a few together. So sweet! They ended with a survey and Bud was one of four children (and the only boy!) to read (READ!) the survey results. His line was, "Our favorite book was Froggy." Other results--as a whole, they like pink (there are more girls than boys), writing centers, and goldfish crackers. There were thank-yous around and it was over.

Afterwards, we took pictures with their kindergarten teachers, even though the kids have a week more of school. But it's the last time Mama and I will be there for kindergarten so we said our goodbyes and thank yous. Well, sort of. I choked up and couldn't quite manage it. Probably because I'd managed not to need the tissues I'd brought with me (because the night before I had demonstrated my proclivity for tears when Sis recited her line and I burst into tears) during the show.

It's not a goodbye in the sense of final, but a goodbye in the sense of the end of a particular time. We'll see everybody next year, but it's just never the same. Impermanence again. But that's okay. First grade will have great parts too.

But isn't there something special about the end of kindergarten? Just like there was about the beginning . . . .

Mommy's in the Kitchen . . .

It's that time of year again: teacher gifts. This morning, the kiddos delivered four pounds of Italian butter cookies (from a bakery) to school to thank all their specials teachers, aides, consultants, staff, and administrators.

Next week, they'll deliver gifts (actually, gift cards) to their own classroom teachers to thank them for a wonderful year.

And today they worked on their class gift. Both classes are making recipe scrapbooks for the teachers, with each child in charge of a two-sided page. One side has a recipe, the other a note to the teacher. There can be pictures, decorations, whatever else. Sis opted to include her favorite chocolate crinkle cookie recipe, while Bud wanted to include the recipe for chicken and dumplings. While both of them could've written out their version of how to make it, they chose to use the actual recipes, which I printed out, saying they didn't know the exact directions. Sis wrote, "I like this cookie. I hope you do too." Bud noted, "This is my favorite meal." Well, his favorite meal is probably sushi, but I don't have a recipe for that! But still, he chose it himself. The glued down pictures of them in the kitchen and Sis stamped some images of food.

On the other side, they both wrote "I love you!" and included stamped images of their favorite things, mainly bunnies and penguins.

Helping them do this--and I did help some, or, well, I helped Babysitter, who helped--was wonderful on many levels. First, I got to spend some real quality time with them, instead of a kiss or hug here and there (though, I have read to them every night). Second, I was being useful, which is a rare thing these days and is probably the biggest factor in my recurring ennui--I can amuse myself all day but it doesn't mean much unless I'm contributing somehow, which I haven't been much. Third, for the 45-60 minutes I was downstairs, I didn't notice my foot at all and only my back intermittently. Yay!!!!!

And lastly, I was reminded of something from my own kindergarten year. It wasn't a teacher's gift but a Mother's Day gift. My beloved old teacher (and she probably was "old," and not just an adult, at least in her 60s, which was ancient to a five year old) Mrs. Felch, went around to each student and had them describe their favorite recipe. She then compiled them all and mimeographed them on long sheets--can you just smell that smudgy purple ink?? And we gave the cookbook to our moms. I remember reading it some years later and laughing at descriptions of how to make "psghetti" or "cake." But I actually got my recipe fairly correct--boil a chicken for a long time and add dumplings.

Yep, I had chosen chicken and dumplings too.

The Rewards of Volunteering

I had quite a busy volunteer week, at school and after school. And I was more than amply rewarded:

• At Daisies, several of the girls, including mine own, when asked about things for which they are thankful, said that they were thankful for our Daisies meetings and the leaders (that's me!).
• When I made a surprise visit to the school yesterday, subbing for a volunteer whose child was ill, I got a huge smile and enthusiastic wave from Sis and a jubilant thumbs-up from Bud.
• When I volunteered today, both kiddos held my hands and gave me hugs.

"All the Children Are Above Average"*

We had our first (and, I believe, only) kindergarten parent-teacher conferences today. One for each, of course. And I think we did an pretty good job of listening to the teacher's report, asking pertinent questions, and finishing on time.

Well, except perhaps with Bud's teacher, who got us giggling about Bud's forgetfulness. Earlier this week, apparently, Bud was at the computer station with the headphones on when it was circle time. So he hopped up, got tangled in the wires of the headphones, and ended up all twisted on the floor, wires everywhere, shouting out, "I'm okay! I'm okay!" Our sweet Bud, who forgets his backpack, folder, library book, milk tickets, his head if it weren't attached.

And has three women to keep him in line. Which means he'll never learn. (And might drive Sis to distraction before he does!)

We were pleased with all reports (no cute stories about Sis, though . . . not that she's not cute, but we spent the extra time talking about strategies for working with left-handed kids), about reading, writing, and . . . yes, you guessed it, arithmetic. But also about classroom behavior and social skills with peers. Which for me is more important. I know they'll learn to read and that most academic discrepancies equal out by 2nd or 3rd grade. I want them to learn how to listen to the teacher, follow directions, be kind to others, navigate the playground and snack tables and bus happily, respect all.

But we'll still be doing all that homework!

-=-=-=-=-=-

*That's Garrison Keillor on "Lake Wobegon," "where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average."

Homework Hell

The kids get a little packet of worksheets each week, with handwriting, counting, patterning, categorizing, cutting and gluing and coloring. Easy stuff.

And they complain, complain, complain. "I hate homework. It's so boring! I never like to glue. Why do we always have homework?"

I sit there, encouraging and debating. "Homework is just part of your job as a student. You need to do what the teacher says. You can do it!

Epiphany: when I'm not in the room dedicating myself to the homework cause, they seem to do it with little frustration, which I only noticed today.

So, from now on, I'll go over the directions when they need it, though it's all getting self-explanatory, familiar, and repetitive now, and otherwise occupy myself with something else nearby.

TWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSS IIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNN SSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Read the title thinking "The Muppet Show!")

I have some preliminary observations and experiences with twins in separate classes at school, albeit classes that see each other sometimes, including recess.

• Sis is completely jealous that Bud got homework the second week! And even though she got homework (or "home fun," a non-required packet of activities, usually on the letter of the week) by the third week . . . .
• She is now upset that he's one letter ahead! "He's going to know more things than me!"
• Competition: they have the same teachers for "specials" on the same day, but it's not always the same. This week, the art teacher showed Harold and the Purple Crayon videos (don't get me started) to the class before having them draw what Harold draws (sigh). And what did the kids have to say? One saw 3 videos, one only 2.
• And he got to do the computers first!
• And be line leader!
• But her class has a "pet" monkey and a frog to dress up depending on the weather.
• And she got to be "helper" with the morning meeting.
• And you should see them doing that homework together--looking at the other's worksheets, giving the answers uninvited, wanting to switch assignments.
• But they do like it when they find out they read the same book or played the same game. And trip over each other to talk about it.
• Or find out that one teacher uses bells and the other has hand signs.
• Not so great when one class did something the other didn't, like recess.
• Because recess presents a whole other problem--they simultaneously do and don't want to play together. "She's playing the 'monster' game. She won't swing. And I won't play monster." "He only swings! He should play monster. Because I'm not going to swing."
• But they love waving to each other as they pass in the hall on the way to and from specials.
• And get this: one wants me to come shop during the book fair, the other wants to do it all alone. Guess who!

So, what it boils down to is that twins at school are just like twins at home, jealous and competitive if they aren't the same and different simultaneously. It is challenging enough to accomplish "separate but equal" at home; it's impossible at school.

But there is a good part: listening to them discuss and compare their days, especially when they delight, instead of disagree, in the retelling.

What a Day.

You never want to see the school's phone number come up in caller ID.

And it happened today. Twice.

First was before 9 a.m. The nurse called. "No worries, Mommy Hungry, Bud is alright. But he did have to visit my office today. A little girl passed him the scissors and he cut his thumb just a bit and needed a bandaid. I'll send home a note but wanted to call too. He came in, said he cut it a bit, was fine with the bandaid, and then stood and did the pledge with me because the announcements were on. However, the girl in class saw the bandaid, she began to cry. And then he began to cry, a delayed reaction. THEN THE WHOLE CLASS BEGAN TO CRY. 'I guess we learned how not to pass scissors today,' the teacher told them."

The second call came after school. Except I didn't get it. I was outside waiting for the bus. Which was later and later and later. So I finally went in to call the school. And saw the caller ID. Uh-oh. I called the school immediately. The bus was in a little bit of an accident. The kids were alright. But the police had to be called because "a bicycle hit the bus." I haven't gotten any more details. And sincerely hope the bicyclist is okay--when a bus and bicyclist tangle, the bus is going to win. Bud and Sis didn't notice anything or seem to wonder why they were stopped for so long and the police came. That's got to be good. I think they would've noticed blood, an ambulance, or a stretcher.

Because worse than your school on caller ID is your school on the local news.

Going Back to School

When I was a student, I loved Open House night. Gommie would go to open house, take notes on my teachers, and come home to tell me all about whom she liked, what she learned, my projects she saw. I really liked the idea of her sitting in my desk, following my schedule, giving her opinion on my teachers. But usually, this night came later in the fall, when my classrooms were full of pictures and book reports and science projects. And the teachers had something concrete to say about me (always good, of course!).

Tonight, I attended my first open house as a parent. And I think it was just as exciting as a parent (not least of which because I made it through the whole thing, percocet-assisted!). My favorite part was perusing the cheerful and cozy classrooms, seeing the drawings they'd already made, exploring the activity centers they'll use, books they'll read, looking at their cubbies, imagining their days. Bud had a photo of himself with his hope for the year "to write books." Sis wants to "write the alphabet in lower case." Which she did right next to the drawing of herself! (Okay, dorky parent alert: we took pictures when no one was looking!!!)

Of course, I liked hearing from the teachers (who I remembered not to corner or press for details about our kids, a la Mama Teacher's post on open houses). I really like both their teachers, Bud's 25-year veteran and Sis's newbie with only a year under her belt. The teachers, presenting together, described all manner of curricula and initiatives, from arrival procedures (put away backpack and deliver folders to the in-box) to rules (care for yourself, your school, and others--sounds like UU principle #1 to me!). There is a "take a break" chair, a non-punitive time-out, based on the logical consequences discipline system. And then all this stuff about academics: math manipulatives and number writing, counting, patterning, measuring, sorting, money, addition and subtraction; the Haskins Literary Initiative, with phonemic awareness, sight words; Writing Workshop, wherein they will be writing sentences by January!!!!; Concepts about Print (CAP) with book awareness, one-on-one correspondence of words; optional homework packets to explore themes outside of school. There will be parent conferences, progress reports, report cards!!! Am I nerdy because all of that sounds so wonderful to me???

We also met the reading specialists, music teachers, art teacher, PE teacher, Spanish teacher, and of course the principal. But didn't have too much time to talk--lots of other parents and really hot inside the un-air-conditioned building, plus I was trying to cram it all in before my back gave out. However, their demeanor, the whole look of the classrooms, the mood of the other parents tells me that this is exactly the place I want the kids to be.

It's where I want to be too. So I signed up to be a classroom reader and literacy volunteer. We joined the PTA and put our names down for several committees. And I've already put all the important upcoming events in our family calendar.

It's great to be back in school!!

I can only hope we encourage and support our kids to love it as much as I did . . . do!

"What Did You Do At School Today?"

My normally loquacious children have become laconic under the influence of kindergarten. Even my well-phrased questions--more probing than the classic title of this post--don't seem to elicit much conversation: what was your favorite thing today? what was your least favorite thing? what did you do that was new today? Nada. I even got creative, "So, did you paint hippos in art today? For P.E. did you climb a mountain?" Nothing.

But slowly, in conversation totally unrelated to school, details have emerged:

Bud has been line leader.

Both classes had a fire drill.

There is a school pledge and also the regular national pledge. Sometimes, birthdays are announced.

One teacher uses bells, another, hand signals, to get attention.

Neither one has had to go to the restroom.

Sis likes art and P.E.

Bud likes snack.

They eat lunch in their classrooms, but take their specials (art, music, p.e., etc) in other rooms.

They drew self-portraits in art class and have learned some words from Maestra, their Spanish teacher.

Bud's class has played alphabet games, like "Aa . . . ahhhh . . . apple."

Sis's class has done the Hokey Pokey.

The separation is either "okay" (Bud) or "good!" (Sis) and sometimes they see each other in the hall on the way to specials.

And I'm sure more details will emerge. Slowly. And I'll have to adjust to not knowing everything about their days. Quickly.

(but if you have favorite school questions that work, let me know!)

We Did It!

We successfully navigated the first day of kindergarten!

Sure, it was only an hour and Mama was on-site the whole time, so it wasn't much of a test, but the symbolism was huge.

I have been considering meaningful posts for this day--reflective letters to the kids summarizing the last five years and offering gentle guidance for the next 12 of school a la "Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," or even humorous blow-by-blows along the lines of "The Night Before Christmas," but I have nothing that humorous or inspiring.

Instead, I'll settle for an accounting of what actually happened.

I woke up before 5 am and kept forcing myself back to sleep, knowing that if I stayed awake, I'd only cry in my pillow. And it must have worked because Mama, who also woke up early but is sadly not as good at sleeping as I am, heard me snoring pretty much til 6:45 when the kids finally woke up.

And they arose like the sun, brilliant and strong and full of promise. They were through their morning checklist, dressed and ready to go before 7:15, which gave them enough time for breakfast, some playtime, and photographs outside. And still there was time to pass, but instead of being increasingly nervous (as were, I'd say, most of the adults!), they took it all in stride, glad for the momentous occasion to have arrived at last.

We piled into two cars--one for Mama and the kids, one for me and Gommie, who was my "back"-up today--and wound our way through crazy first-day-of-school traffic (CT is notorious for having awful traffic during the school year, as teachers must travel long distances to where they teach; even in our little town, the roads are jammed with all the people who aren't on a bus route). (And yes, I went, drugged, braced, even pain patched, which bought me about 20 minutes on my feet. It's all good). But we made it early and in two pieces, finding parking easily. The principal cheerfully greeted everyone outside, where people were posing in front of the school sign and a stuffed version of the school mascot. And Sis and Bud were still just beaming.

The smiles dampened somewhat, just a tad, as we waited a bit in the auditorium to be let into their classrooms. Perhaps because reality set in. Perhaps because there was nothing to do but stand there. Perhaps because they had been delayed from their ultimate goal of getting to class just a bit. A small hand slipped into mine. Sis sniffed Shirt.

Not five minutes later, we were invited to walk down the hall to their kindergarten classes. Here we go. Purposefully, the kids marched down the hall double-time, with us in tow, smiles returning as we neared our destinations. First, Bud's class: he walked right in, found a seat, sat down, and barely looked back for our ritual beep. The teacher was standing near me and so, seeing all the parents still standing there, I asked if this was when it was time to go. Yep. And so I went. No looking back. As purposeful as the kids. I headed to Sis's class, where she had gone with Mama. I had to squeeze through parents to give her a beep goodbye; she barely turned around. But then, she had declared the night before that she could walk herself to class! This teacher too said it was time to go and so Mama and I left.

That's it. No loitering. No tears. No protracted goodbyes. No returns for a last look. Our kids are in kindergarten.

Mama went to the parents' meeting; Gommie took me home via the coffee shop for my chai reward. About an hour later, the kids returned, full of folders and forms, but not of stories. Typical. All I can make out is that one class did the hokey pokey, the other played an alphabet game. Both are very excited to go back tomorrow, because tomorrow will be longer, requiring their backpacks and snacks and a bus ride home.

Color me tickled and relieved and happy. With a bright yellow sunshine-y crayon. We did it!

Homework

We played school today.

And Sis wanted homework.

So I made up a simple worksheet with addition problems.

Like this:

1 + 1 = ___

1 +2 = ___

1 + 3 = ___

1 + 4 = ___

1 + 5 = ___

I explained the equation, "It says one plus one equals. And there is a blank for your answer. Then it keeps going. Don't forget to put your name at the top." Sis took the worksheet and sat alone on a little chair, using the piano bench as her desk. Busy with making Bud the same worksheet, it was a little bit before I glanced over. And there she was carefully counting out the addition on her fingers and precisely copying the numerals from her ruler onto her worksheet, so she'd get the shape right. And it's so sweet because she got all but the 3 backwards (she's left-handed and I can't help but think it's a challenge for her right now).

But she was puzzled by the last problem. She got the same answer for 1 + 5 that she got for 1 + 4 and she knew that was wrong. I could see what was happening: with five fingers up on one hand and only one on the other, she kept forgetting to count her extended thumb because she would start with her pointer finger and go across the fingers from there. She did it once more incorrectly before noticing her thumb and getting it right. 6, she wrote carefully.

And then she came running over to me, face beaming, worksheet extended. I checked it and everything was right. She was so proud. And demanded another worksheet. So, I obliged:

A B _ D E _ G H _ J K _ M N _ P Q _ S T _ V W _ Y _

And she got all those right too.

But I poisoned the well on the third requested worksheet, because I made it on handwriting and was going to have them copy their first and last names, upper and lower case. Well, their last names are long, and they both decided right then and there that they were tired of homework!

Mercy, I thought I had it in the bag, because they'll be doing homework in kindergarten. And here it is, a month beforehand and I've spoiled the fun already.

And they still won't be able to write their full names on the first day.

But at least they can add!

Takes the Cake

Specifically, Sis took the cake. To a playdate yesterday. With some of our new kindergarten friends. Well, "new" isn't exactly correct because we've known the families for years but haven't spent too much extra time together outside of the big playgroups of the toddler years or some moms' night out (MNO) opportunities. Anyway, Sis was excited and wanted to take a treat (Bud was excited too but doesn't immediately think of baking!). And so she flipped through her chocolate cookbook and spotted a picture we liked, for Hershey Special Dark Picnic Cake; luckily, we had all the ingredients, including the sour cream which I don't always have on hand (though I've found that plain yogurt works admirably as a substitute). She proudly mixed, poured, and even cleaned up (with lots of licking of bowls first), then later iced the cake and joyfully carried the cake to the playdate. Everyone welcomed it, making her happy. Best of all, it was delicious, just the kind of chocolate sheet cake I have been hoping to find. More than that, it made meeting some new friends who will be in our kindergarten easier than it would be. Chocolate cake makes everything better! (And next time we'll try the cocoa substitution that the online version of the recipe suggests.)

(Bud had a good time too, especially when he got to perform his kung fu forms to everyone's applause. It's just what we needed for school.)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hershey Special Dark Picnic Cake

1 cup Hershey Special Dark Chocolate Chips (regular semisweet work too!)

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter or margarine

1-1/3 cups boiling water

2-1/3 cups all-purpose flour

1-1/4 cups sugar

1/2 cup dairy sour cream

2 eggs

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Special Dark Frosting (recipe follows)

1. Heat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour 13x9x2-inch baking pan.

2. Combine chocolate chips, butter and water in large mixer bowl; stir with spoon until chocolate is melted and mixture is blended. Gradually add flour, sugar, sour cream, eggs, baking soda, salt and vanilla; beat on low speed of electric mixer until smooth. Pour batter into prepared pan.

3. Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center of cake comes out clean. Cool completely in pan on wire rack. Frost with Special Dark Frosting. 12 to 15 servings.

Special Dark Frosting

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter or margarine

1 cup Hershey Special Dark Chocolate Chips

1-1/2 cups powdered sugar

1/4 cup milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place butter and chocolate chips in medium microwave-safe bowl. Microwave at MEDIUM (50%) 1 minute; stir. If necessary, microwave at MEDIUM 15 seconds at a time, stirring after each heating, until chips are melted and mixture is smooth when stirred. Gradually beat in powdered sugar, milk and vanilla, beating until smooth. If necessary, refrigerate 5 to 10 minutes or until of desired spreading consistency. About 1-2/3 cups frosting.

VARIATION: For a stronger chocolate flavored cake, decrease flour to 2 cups and add 1/3 cup HERSHEY'S Cocoa.

Hershey's

It Starts

School supplies at the store.

Clothes purchases for the first weeks of school.

Babysitter setting her last week for the second week of August.

It's mid-July and summer rapidly seems to be ending. Early. With school.

And I really was doing fine. Handling graduation and orientation, both theirs and Babysitter's, as well as could be expected. But it all hit me rather hard today, which was just a day of innocent and innocuous errands. Sure, I've had a mental tab of things running for weeks now: rearrange dental appointment for kids so as not to coincide with class, check on bus orientation RSVP, look into Girl Scout troop opportunities, order school spirit gear, put together photo album of kids with Babysitter as a going away present. But those have been pushed aside as we went to Texas and then celebrated birthdays.

Now there is nothing big between us and school, with Babysitter's departure after 5 years here, a sad foretaste of anxiety for us all. I mean, Bud already dreads being separated in class and mentions it almost daily. And now he's taken to not letting go of Babysitter as she tries to leave each day. Mind you, I've been as normal and perky as possible; I'd like to think I'm not leaking stress. But I'm guessing I'm deluding myself.

Well, no delusions today, I'm kinda down about it all.

Big Boys Do Cry

Sobs wracked his body and hot tears streamed down his trembling cheeks. "I don't want to be in separate classes," he wailed.

We had stopped by the pizza place to grab lunch after swim lessons and someone there recognized us from kindergarten orientation. Her daughter would be in Sis's class. Bud was immediately upset. "Why can't I be in Sis's class? I want to be together."

They all played together for awhile, as we waited for our pizza, but Bud came over more than once for a hug and a pat. "Why isn't anyone in my class? I don't want to be alone."

Reassurances of new friends and upcoming playdates went unheard. By the time we got home, it only took tripping over his own foot in the entryway to elicit this storm of sadness. Where he has been prone to being angry about things beyond his control recently, wanting "alone time" to cope with it, asking us not to talk about it, sometimes needing to stomp or yell or pull all the covers off his bed, today he crawled up into my lap, arms flung around my shoulders, and sobbed into my chest uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity.

All I could do was rub his back and tell him I loved him. The tears had to cry themselves out. They did eventually, when cooling pizza tempted him to the kitchen, where he insisted on sitting so close to me that we could touch.

But the pain and fear of separation and isolation linger just below the surface, ready to flood us both.

Omegas and Alphas

It was a week of endings and beginnings over here, with both the end of preschool and the beginning of our connection to kindergarten. Which means high emotions for everyone.

Except the kids don't seem to get it. We left school on Friday, trying to keep the last day of preschool low-key, even though Mama was with us for drop-off and pick-up, and the kids went home . . . . to make things for their friends for when they said goodbye later! We tried to gently remind them that they'd said goodbye--which they seemed to realize at the time because they did actually say goodbye to teachers and friends--and marked the uniqueness of the day by having COOKIES for snack--but, well, they're not quite 5 and maybe didn't have the full grasp of the situation.

We let it drop. Mainly because each time we thought about it, we got choked up. Yes, we. Mama, who is not a freestyle crier like I am, did get teary as the kids hugged their teachers goodbye. Of course, as you know, I'd started at the beginning of the week but really did go to boo-hooing when I saw the preschool daily updates which I keep on our chalkboard so Mama could see them when she got home. And it hit me--more than packing their last snack, or writing their last note for this school--that we wouldn't be getting anymore of those photocopied summaries of the day's events. All of which I've kept for two years. Such wonderful things there--visits from firefighters, the zoo, the seaport, the Tooth Fairy, and parents with interests in deep-sea fishing, puppets, Chinese New Year; special birthday celebrations for each child; releasing butterflies and growing beans and harvesting pumpkins; hosting Thanksgiving lunch and Mother's Day tea; plus the "ordinary miracles" of paint and playdough, dress-up and blocks, songs and books, magnets and magnifying glasses, the Pledge and the weather.

Of course, the most important component was only hinted at in the notes: the fabulous, dedicated teachers, who every day didn't just put up with 14 preschoolers but encouraged, guided, supported, and inspired them. And then told me funny or endearing stories about it all at pick-up time. There was the gardener, who would get the children to help her water the school's plants and send them home with growing seeds and spider plant clippings; it was she who Bud sought out almost everyday to create works of art and she who came up with ingenious solutions to his creative problems (like how to make paper plate masks stay on his head--all 13 of them!). There was the artist, who organized and oversaw all the fun activities in the art kitchen, the first place Sis would head almost every morning; this was also the teacher, as I understand it, who read with them everyday. There was the musician, who played all the school's songs on the piano and who sang with them often; I think she is also the one . Lastly, there was Madam Director, whom I cannot easily compress into a few short sentences, and so I will just say that she was their favorite. Even today Sis asked if I could contact her and invite her over to play and I was to tell her that Sis would bake her a chocolate cake (a mutual love of theirs).

But they haven't just been the kids' teachers; they've been mine, too. It's like being born-again academically--I've just started over again in preschool with a clean slate and have to learn my role and follow the rules and figure it all out. Not just parenting a child in school (when do you send hats and gloves? was my healthy snack healthy enough? how many visits are too many?) and being part of a school community (learning all the kids' names, trying to help out on the parents committee, participating in fundraisers), but even just parenting a child in general (like, what should I do about anger? or, how do you handle monsters at night?). And so they answered all sorts of questions, gave suggestions, encouraged, and praised. (And overlooked my parenting shortcomings: unwashed hair, uncut fingernails, breakfast in the car, forgotten mittens, stained t-shirts, backwards clothes, shoes on the wrong feet). I feel like it was my school, in a way, as much as it was Sis and Bud's. There are a few things I wish I'd done better (namely, gotten to know the other parents better and figured out what to do with all the art that comes home), but I guess I can work on that next year.

Sigh, next year. In kindergarten. In a big school that isn't going to send home a daily update. In a school where the ratio is 1:20 not 1:3ish. In a big school where there will be no one to help open snack containers or read notes. Or to tell me what's going on everyday when I show up. That's not to say we don't like our new school (yes, "our": I'm a SAHM, folks, their school is my school--I'll be volunteering there in some capacity for the next 7 years. And I'm probably more of a helicopter parent than I choose to admit). In fact it is our first choice. And visitation last week went well. The principal and staff were enthusiastic; the orientation flowed smoothly, even when the kids left us to go play and hear a story (we sent them in the same group; no sense creating agita in advance--you can't practice being separated). There was a lot of talk about standards and goals and assessments, about reading and homework journals and skipping recess, that all sounded way too much like No Child Left Behind. And not at all like the fun I had in kindergarten. But then kindergarten is the new first grade and the stress is on phonemic awareness and such. Yes, I did learn a lot of buzz words--"responsive classroom" discipline, "tier 3 words," "Pillars of Learning," yada yada yada (thanks for keying me in, Mama Teacher! I'm going to need you next year). Not at all as much fun as art and music and P.E., which of course they'll also have each week (during "specials"). (And I did have a minor panic about their being "behind" in writing in upper and lower case letters, much less that they aren't close to reading. But isn't that why they're going to kindergarten?) We ended the visit by introducing ourselves to everyone (yes, I'm the suck-up parent. It worked for 20+ years in school, why stop now??? And is it really sucking up if I'm sincere?) and buying some spirit gear to get them excited about their new school. We took one picture by the school sign and left.

The kids spoke exuberantly for awhile about the blocks and the story and the drawings they made, and then Bud became upset. "I didn't make any new friends," he worried. "I won't know anyone at my new school." And all Sis could add was "it's bigger than I thought it would be." Reassurances went nowhere. And I'm sure I sounded overly perky about it as I tried hard to assuage (that's a tier 3 word there, folks) their fears. I guess we're going to need this summer to break the bonds with the old school and to prepare to form new ones with the new school. All of us.

But we'd still love to have you come over for chocolate cake, Madam Director.

Of School and Scones

Mama just called that her meeting is over and she is on her way home. She should be here in 15 minutes so I've popped a batch of our favorite scones in the oven. Because we're going to need to talk. See, she hasn't been at work.

She's been at a meeting about kindergarten.

Tonight was the first informative meeting about our kids entering school next year. And she went to get all the forms and information. She missed dinner and tuck-in, which I handled myself (though, an hour later, they are still awake and chatting, intentionally and secretly hiding critters and loveys and Shirt so that we have to search for them). All at my own request. I didn't want to go to the meeting. Which surprised the few people who knew in advance. I mean, I'm the stay-at-home mom and school is my domain, as are all occasions when any socializing or ingratiating might be required. This meeting clearly fell within my purview.

And I didn't want to go. Is it because I'm stressful about school? Sure. Not really ready yet for our path to kindergarten to begin in earnest? Uh-huh. Willing to trust the first meeting to a cooler, calmer head so that we get all the facts straight? You bet. All of it and more, I'm sure.

So, I'm here at home baking, waiting for Mama to come home from school. Just as I will be for the kids come September.