School Days Schmool Days

"Please don't make me leave my couch!"

I can picture it now: sitting in the crowd of parents overlooking all those caps and gowns. I won’t be able to hear his name called over the roar of my own weeping in my ears. I’m projecting to The Baby’s High School graduation. This might seem strange to you as the child hasn’t even started kindergarten yet, but to me, it is the light at the end of what I see is going to be a very long tunnel.

He started year two of preschool two weeks ago. He hated year one of preschool, fought me every morning to go. But, I chalked it up to growing pains as most of the class was in the same sorry state as he for the entire year. This year I prepared for the worst but was pleasantly surprised by his reaction week one. He said it was awesome. He willingly walked out the door those first few days. I should have known, his teacher is one of those Queens of Learning that if you are lucky you get once in your life.

I should have known she’d work her magic on him.

Then this week came and the crying started. First, he just whined for me, like he did all last year. Then, he cried at school.

“I got two timeouts today mom. I had to sit out of circle because I was crying too hard.”

Then, Wednesday night: the bed-wetting and Thursday; the morning long tears and negotiations.

What. The. Heck?

Maybe If One Could Wear PJs to School, It Would Be Easier.

This is when the mommy questions come on fierce. Do I stop and just let him start this madness in kindergarten when it’s state law? Do I keep plugging away so kindergarten is smoother? Do I homeschool? How come this one isn’t like EITHER of the other two? What am I doing wrong? What is wrong with him? As you can imagine they continue to spiral into ugly from here.

That last one is my most embarrassing. There is nothing wrong with him. He’s amazing and brilliant and funny and I adore being with him most of the time.

But he hates school. No matter what I do.

Maybe some miracle will occur at some time, but I’m not holding my breath. The things he hates: the noise, the crowds, the quick eating, they’re only going to get worse.

So, yeah we’ll have to deal with that. And I can just imagine when he’s old enough to think his teachers are stupid and the work is pointless. (I mentioned his brilliance right?) He’s that kind of brilliant-his mind is working faster than most adults I know and having been in a classroom for 12 years, I know the havoc those kids wreak on that environment.

But I think I’m resigned to it. I think I’m ready to advocate for and against him when the time comes for it. I’m ready to battle him to go and battle with him to behave. I’m ready to support the teachers that try to get him  and I’m ready to take on the teachers that don’t. I know it will be a delicate balancing act for the next 14 years. I’m ready, especially for that graduation day. I know he’ll get there and I know I’ll be relieved.