PRE-SCHOOL ANGST
A few weeks after my fourth birthday my mother sat me down on our cold, concrete back stairs and told me I would be going to pre-school. I had no idea what this meant, and my mother, bless her heart, didn't really fill me in all that much except to say that I would have fun and make some new friends.
I did and I did. Very simple.
But it's just not that way anymore.
Here is Los Angeles, there are 10,000 preschool to choose from (slight exaggeration) with varying philosophies. With some, an interview with your child is necessary, others are so fancy the yearly tuition is equivalent to a year at Yale. (Seriously) Some are 8 hours a day, some 3, some play based, others academic...some are geared toward children with special needs, others for children who have a love of tennis.
So, on one hand, the variety can be great - but on the other glass-half-empty pragmatic side of things, the idea that we need so many choices is nuts!
For years, my daughter went to the same place - a school that embodied my philosophy, which simply stated goes like this, "IF THE KID COMES HOME CLEAN AND PAINT-FREE, THE SCHOOL AIN'T DOING THEIR JOB!"
This may sound crazy to some of you. I mean, who really wants to deal with washing severely painted-on clothes and giving their child a bath every night because their face is painted like a tree frog?
I do.
For family reasons, we had to switch Isa a few months ago, into a different school for her last year of preschool. All through the school tour, through parent night and these past several months, I've tried to convince myself it's no biggie - it's a sweet school, lovely campus, even lovelier teachers - and not for nothing, but the kids who went there 30 years ago now send their own children!!
What the hecks my problem?
But every day, when my daughter comes out to the car, dirt free, paint free and passion free, I ache inside.
I know my mother didn't worry about this back in the day - and I constantly ask myself, why me? It's a preschool, for heaven's sake!! But I do...I want her back there where art is tops, dirt reigns and her friends, like Cheers, know her name...
So... I'm trying to get her back in the other school, and have already put my little boy on their list for next year... crazy L.A....crazy L.A. and all their damn choices...
5 Comments:
You go girl! I'm convinced that the Mothers' Morning Out program my older son attended nourished his love of art, which in turn led him to major in architecture in college. He's loving his career and making a name for himself at his firm. My younger son attended the same MMO program and it provided him the environment to come out of his shell and become more social.
What pains me so much today is the push, push, push that kids get from the cradle onward. They're babies for crying out loud, not little robots who can be programmed to do math at age three. There's a country song by Billy Dean called "Let Them Be Little" and I love the lyrics -- Let them be little, cause they're only that way for a while. Give them hope, give them praise, give them hugs every day. Let them dry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle. Oh, but let them be little.
And that includes getting dirty and having your face painted.
Good luck!
Marilyn
Thanks, Marilyn!
and your boys sound amazing...but not a shock with who their mom is:-)
Uh... that should be Let them CRY
Let them dry makes sense - if we're takin' diapers!
Check out Kathleen Eagle's blog post with ideas for dress-up. She does this for her granddaughters and it's the most clever idea I've seen. I must remember it for when BabyGrand is older.
Marilyn
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