We’ve hit another big milestone this week: Sam went to pre-school. Well, actually it’s kind of a pre-pre-school, or as I like to think of it: a pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-Ph.D. program. Or as Geralyn thinks of it: a chance to run errands twice a week.
Not being the stay-at-home member of our parenting dyad I haven’t been able to see the pre-school, but Ger apparently hasn’t gotten to see much more. The place is run with a kind of efficiency reminiscent of a prison yard: parents drop their inmates off with their backpacks (bright pink and festooned wtih Strawberry Shortcake in Sam’s case), which is immediately deposited in THE DESIGNATED BASKET RECEPTICAL. Mixing of backpacks or backpack contents is strictly prohibited. From there, children are taken out of sight to engage in wholesome activities like coloring, playing with a ball, holding hands, and possibly assembling Nike sneakers. At the end of the day parents drive up and display a sign with the child’s name on it. Designated school personnel deposit the child into the appropriately labled minivan and tell them to move along. The entire process is overseen by the mysterious “Miss Jeanie,” who I have never seen but envision as a kind of cross between Nurse Ratchet and Mr. Kurtz from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Except that she shops for clothes at Old Navy.
Okay, I’m joking. I’m told that the school is wonderful and Miss Jeanie is a very nice person who has not created a jungle stronghold deep in Cambodia where she uses perscription medicine to keep her wards in check. Yet. In fact, Sam seems to really like it so far and look forward to it. The first day back she showed me a new trick she called “tumbling” and which I call “falling down repeatedly.” Then she made me a pair of sneakers.
Pictures!
Also of note this week is the fact that my mom, Sammy’s “Nana,” is visiting from out of town. When Sam and I went to go pick her up, Sam was delighted to find out that not only had we paid her a visit to the airport to see Nana, but she would actually be getting into the car and coming back with us! Sam is loving the visit, especially seeing as how Nana bought like 600 children’s books for a nickel from the Goodwill store before she got on the plane. It’s actually pretty cool to see how Sam remembers my mom and has affection for her even from just the few visits they’ve had when Sam was younger. They seem to get along great, and have plenty of conversation fodder, like how they both have knees that are less than three years old.
Finally, we also had a long overdue housewarming party at our new place this weekend. Much of Ger’s family was in attendance, including a few younger kids that made good use of Sam’s toys and back yard playground. Sam was still the youngest one there, but she displayed an impressive degree of sociability in that she wanted to play with the other kids. Still, they were usually quite a bit older, which presented difficulties. They were all friendly and accepting of Sam, but most of them weren’t really sure what to do with this little thing that just kept looking up at them and saying “Hi!” over and over again.
I’m SO jealous that you have a tire swing for Sam. I take small solace that it isn’t hanging from a majestic oak tree in your back year.
The story about preschool is so similar to my experience last year. I was scolded the one time I went for not putting properly placing items in Emma’s basket.
Her preschool also has a “special friends” hour once a week. I had NO idea what this was but it sounded horrible. Emma would whimper about not wanting to go on “special friends” day, tell horror stories about children screaming, etc.
I swear I thought they were inviting pedophiles or something for a visit. (There’s a Catholic school just down the street. Should be plenty of priests there.)
But, no. As it turns out “special friends” are the special ed kids from the elementary school. The idea is to get them some time with normal kids and for the regular class to learn about people being different.
Noble goal but is preschool really the right environment for it? I think Emma is now scared by ALL “special” people, the opposite of what they intended. They’re too young to understand that the kid drooling, screaming and beating himself in the corner can’t help it.
Yeah, that is kind of out there. Seems like a little more care could have been taken into easing them into the mainstream there. Did I ever tell you about the time that an elementry school paperwork error put me in the “special kids” class for almost a whole week and how nobody would F’ING LISTEN TO ME when I told them I wasn’t supposed to be there? True story.
And yeah, that tire swing is Sam’s favorite thing some days. She wont’ let a day go by without going out there for a ride. She’s going to be disappointed this winter. 🙁