First Days

Last week saw Ellie's first day of second grade (second grade!) and Ada's first day of Pre-K. Wow. People aren't kidding when they say that "it goes by so fast." I think childhood is like a glacier. At first there's so little perspective that you barely feel like you're moving and then, all of a sudden, your child is counting the moments until she's old enough to sit in the front seat (age 12 - Ellie knows she has just over 4 years to go) and talking about going away to college. Zoom, momentum.



Oh, also, another first last week:


(Other quick Teddy notes for my later reference: size 2 diapers, blowing lots of raspberries, and rolling over onto his tummy in the middle of the night, getting stuck, and furiously screaming for help. Hilarious. Three bouts this summer of clogged duct with pain and fever: less funny.)

What Does Your Car Say about You?

Ellie used to go to a big all-district preschool, and when I picked her up from class I'd frequently park near an older pick-up truck with a camper shell on the back that was plastered with fairly militant bumper stickers. Over time I developed a persona for the guy who drove the truck and why he was so frequently at a preschool during the day.

Naturally, I was completely wrong. The driver turned out to be a woman about ten years older than me. She was also, probably, a music therapist or teacher since I later saw her walking into the building carrying a guitar case. The first time I saw the person hopping out of a truck covered with angry, militant bumper stickers and walking into my daughter's school carrying a long, black case I admit that I was concerned. No shots were fired. I remember her because if I were playing a matching game, I'd never have connected this woman to her vehicle.

Fast forward a few years. Now I'm picking up Ada at a completely different preschool miles away from Ellie's old school. And I regularly find myself parked behind a shiny new XTerra with two NRA bumper stickers (one for the front window, one for the back, because the association is very important for all to recognize) and a flashy sticker crying, "Green is the new Red!" with a sickle and hammer icon.

My first thought was, wow, this person has no idea what it really means to live in a totalitarian state. I mean, I get that people who live in San Francisco might be annoyed at fines for not recycling properly, but we live in Missouri. Sure there's encouragement to conserve electricity and water, recycle, etc., but I hear a lot less about all of that than I used to. We drive our SUVs and run our air conditioners and buy our pre-packaged foods and really have a vast amount of control over how "green" we are - or are not.

I watched the other parents of kids in Ada's class closely, holding each one up against the XTerra and trying to determine who is the most likely driver. I settled on the family that refused to be listed in the class directory or emergency telephone tree. Once again, I was completely wrong.

One day, I held the door open for a woman leaving the school carrying a bag and a black guitar case. . . the same woman from Ellie's preschool. She told me that holding the door was unnecessary, then quickly and self-sufficiently strode over to the XTerra, hopped in, and drove away.

Mystery solved.

(As for the privacy-loving family who didn't want to be listed on the preschool contact sheet, I later heard the dad chatting with another dad at a class party about some of their favorite NPR shows.)

First Days of School

First Grade (Dolly stayed home, but sparkly skirt definitely got to go.)


Preschool


And blowing off steam afterward.

Whining

I've been ill, more or less, since we got back from vacation early this month. It's getting annoying. I've had an abdominal thing, an abysmal cold, and strep throat. Here's hoping for a nice, clear, healthy fall to come!

My wonderful husband is finally starting to fight a cold himself. Yesterday he said that while he's glad to pitch in more, he hopes I won't stay sick forever. That makes two of us! (And probably more.)

Day three of antibiotics is starting off well for me, so here's hoping the trend continues.

For Ellie, however, today was traumatic starting the moment I notified her that she was indeed expected to continue to attend first grade. Days 1 and 2 went well, but were apparently novelties and she didn't think she'd have to go yet again today. Alas.

Ellie Is a First Grader!

This week clobbered us a bit with end-of-year busyness - including gift procurement. We make end-of-term gifts for the girls' teachers and helpers.  Since the number of gifts is usually  between one and two dozen, economics are a factor in our decision about what to make, as is time.  This year we wanted to do something the girls could help with (ruling out hot wax) and slightly healthy if food-related.

From a book of such ideas, we decided on dipped strawberries that were supposed to look like balloons against a blue sky (photo at left).

The instructions made this look very easy. I've melted candy and dipped foods into it before (pretzels, crackers, etc.). We had containers, foam, food coloring, and wooden kabob skewers. All we needed were the strawberries! Couldn't be easier, right?

The girls loved the idea. They loved helping. Ada helped me wrap the foam and push it into the containers. Both girls helped dip strawberries and sampled the chocolate. But there were some hang-ups.

1. It turns out that liquid (including food coloring) ruins candy coating and powdered food coloring isn't readily available at the 11th hour.
2. And produce stand strawberries aren't necessarily as long lasting and resilient as store-bought giant monstrosiberries.
3. Also, as with all such projects, tiny time-sucks like hot gluing fluffy clouds and tying tiny ribbons kept Paul and me up past 2:00 am.

So there were a couple extra trips to the store and some modifications to the design. Results:



Hopefully they tasted good.

Seen on President's Day at My Daughter's School

Some of their parents have angry bumper stickers on their cars. Some of their parents believe that health care - and food - are privileges, not rights. Some of their parents might even belong to groups that wish the President dead.

But these first graders have different priorities.



If I were President I would . . .

Empty my bank account and give the money to poor people.
Stop wars.
Help homeless animals.

Every single child in this particular class wanted to be a Good Samaritan. Every single poster talked about helping people or animals in tough situations as a first priority. Every single one.

I loved the novel The Help by Kathryn Stockett. One of the most memorable parts - never elaborated on, never explained, but perfectly clear nonetheless - is black maid/nanny Aibileen's firm insistence on never caring for white children over age eight. The novel is set in Mississippi in the early 1960's and Aibileen is raising her 17th white child. She feeds them bottles and changes their diapers. She plays with them and potty trains them. She sends them off to school. But before they begin to see her as black, as other, before they start treating her as their parents do, she moves on to a new family.

We teach our children about kindness and generosity and manners and giving and thanksgiving. Inclusiveness and thoughtfulness. But we teach them other things, too. I see this in my own children. I see the way my six-year-old stomps off to be alone when she's angry. I hear the way my three-year-old can say "fiddlesticks" as though it's a vile curse. And I know: this, too, they learn at home.

On the balance: what do we teach our kids? And who will they become?

Souvenir

"I've got a bone to pick with you!" my mom said on the phone this afternoon.  "Do you remember a long time ago you gave me a bag of toys to donate? I left it in the back of my car and forgot about it for months and months.  Today I took it into the principal's office and dropped the whole thing into the treasure chest."

The treasure chest is for kids who get to choose special prizes.

"Later an email went out to the whole staff asking who dropped off the bag of booty.  There was something off in the tone of the email, but I replied letting her know that I'd left the toys.  She asked me to come down to the office so she could show me something."

Oh, no, I thought.  What on earth did I leave in that bag?!

Rewind two and a half years to our vacation in Scotland with my parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, and niece.  We spent our last full day in Edinburgh and I did some souvenir shopping along the Royal Mile like every other tourist in town.  At one shop, as I was buying a soccer (foot)ball covered with Scottish flags for Ellie, I noticed a hilarious little impulse item on the counter.  "What a fabulous gag gift," I thought.  "Maybe for the couple who are watching our dog."

After we got home it occurred to me that it was not an appropriate gift for anybody.  At some point I must have dropped it into a bag of things to take with me on a visit to my parents' house, thinking we could all get a laugh out of it.  And then forgotten it, because . . .

"What was in the bag of toys?" I asked my mom.

"A whisky flavored condom!"

Oh, no.

"Can you even imagine if some child had taken that home as his prize?  From elementary school?"

Fortunately, my mom's principal has a great sense of humor.  And checked the toys one-by-one before emptying my mom's bag into the treasure chest.

"She checked it out and warned me that it is indeed expired so is no good unless I want more grandchildren."

Commute

I like my daughter's preschool.  I like the location, the teachers, the director, all of it.

Yet I gave up her spot there for next year and drove across three suburbs to put Ada on a waiting list for another preschool.  One that costs twice as much and is further away.  (She's second on the waiting list for the schedule we want. She's in for our second choice class schedule.)

Of course, the new preschool is fabulous.  The facility, the teachers, all of it's top-notch.  But the reason we made the switch is because Ada will (hopefully) be in the same classroom Ellie was in last year.  It's a team-taught classroom with a Gen Ed and a Special Ed teacher and a mix of students: some with IEPs, some without.

I think this will be good for Ada.  I also want to support the program that helped Ellie.

Here's hoping.

File under:
- stuff no one but me cares about
- parents can be boring
- lady, quit talking about yer kids
- parenting is one long series of tiny decisions with plenty of time to second guess and worry and obsess and wonder if you're doing the right thing or inadvertently ruining your children's lives.

Six

"It's MY birthday today!" At 5:45 this morning, Ellie burst from her room, delighted to be alive. "Happy Birthday to MEEEE!"

Soon, all of us were awake and bundled into the dark, cold car for a special birthday doughnut run. (Doughnuts might be the very best thing about birthdays at our house.)

"How old are you, Ellie?" asked Paul.

"I'm six!"

She told us she wanted spaghetti (p-bsketti) and garlic cheesy bread for dinner. "And milk!" She let us know, periodically, when she wanted us to sing to her. She absolutely gets the whole birthday experience. Of course she loves it! And she's really looking forward to her party.

Kindergarten is hard for Ellie. But it's so good for her, too. Over the last month and a half, Ellie's made huge strides physically (gross motor, fine motor, speech) and emotionally (independence, making cool connections all over the place).

Reasons to celebrate abound.

In addition to my delight with my beloved daughter, I'm also healthier than I've been in a long time. I don't mean physically; I have a terrible cough that refuses to heal. But for a month and a half, Ellie has been going to bed at bedtime. And sleeping all night. It's been SIX YEARS since we've been able to have stress-free bedtimes and parents-only evenings. (I've also lost 20 pounds. Coincidence? Perhaps.)

Have I mentioned that I love Kindergarten?

(Picture legend: Above, Ellie relaxing at the end of a long, wonderful birthday. She's watching The Little Mermaid before bed.)

She Works Differently

Ellie's really fond of one of her classmates. I have been emailing back-and-forth with the little girl's mother - the lead room parent - and after making plans for the Halloween party planning meeting (is this really my life?) I said:

"Ellie thinks [your daughter's] really great, and so do I. Even at this young age some kids realize that Ellie's a little different and are obviously uncomfortable around her. It sounds like your daughter's been really nice to Ellie at school and she must be picking up that inclusive attitude from somewhere. So thank you! (Ellie has Down syndrome, of course, but what that means varies from kid to kid. In Ellie's case, she struggles a little physically - she's weaker than other kids - and behaviorally. Things are harder for her so she sometimes opts out of participating. But she's bright, so she gets it when she's excluded, and that's hard.)"

She replied, "I'm glad to hear that Ellie feels included by [my daughter]. We have talked about Ellie (not in a mean way, of course) and [my daughter] explained to me that Ellie's brain just works differently than ours does, so that is what we say. I hope that is ok. I don't pretend to know all of the correct ways of explaining things to my daughter, but I try to point out how people are similar to each other even though they are also different. Anyway, I'm just glad Ellie thinks my daughter is nice."

I love that this 5-year-old confidently explained to her mother that Ellie's brain just works a little differently. That's true!

Here's my latest metaphor. Have you ever been really really tired? Maybe you're trying to study or balance your checkbook or just finish reading the doggone book for your book club. Whatever the specifics - have you ever been in a state where you can just TELL that you're not quite firing on all cylinders? That your brain isn't making connections well, that your processing time is delayed, that your body is clumsy and not reacting the way it should? You know that something's wrong but you can't do anything about it?

You could be tired or sick or drunk or drugged or aging or injured or disabled or recently returned to Earth after acclimating to moon gravity. You're probably also very frustrated! You're still YOU in there, but you've got this barrier to interacting with to the outside world.

I think life is like that for Ellie, all the time.

She's the toughest person I know. And, especially considering how hard functioning with all the rest of us must be for her, she's also the brightest, sweetest, most giving person around.

The United States of America

"There is no red state America, there is no blue state America; but there is a United States of America."

"Americans...sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states. We are, and always will be, the United States of America."

"And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too."

--President Barack Obama

Why on earth are people complaining about the President of the United States of America giving a speech to school children about the importance of education? Whether or not you agree with the President's vision for America's future, he's the President!

Laura Bush agrees. "I think there is a place for the president ... to talk to schoolchildren and encourage" them, she said. Parents should follow his example and "encourage their own children to stay in school and to study hard and to try to achieve the dream that they have."

President Reagan gave a televised address to schoolchildren. So did President George H. W. Bush. (Watch them here.) Now Obama is going to do the same.

Here's the full text of Obama's planned speech, addressed to students in Kindergarten through twelfth grade. "And that's what I want to focus on today: the responsibility each of you has for your education. I want to start with the responsibility you have to yourself. Every single one of you has something you're good at. Every single one of you has something to offer. And you have a responsibility to yourself to discover what that is. That's the opportunity an education can provide."

If you think it's appropriate for Presidents to be able to speak to schoolchildren about the importance of staying in school and working hard, let your school administrators know.

Patriots may disagree vehemently with various policy positions taken by politicians. But patriots respect the office of the Presidency.

If you, like me, want a shot of respectful, bipartisan patriotism, have another listen.

And this, too:

"These are difficult times for our country, and I pledge to [President-Elect Obama] tonight to do all in my power to help him lead us through the many challenges we face.

I urge all Americans who supported me to join me in not just congratulating him, but offering our next president our good will and earnest effort to find ways to come together, to find the necessary compromises, to bridge our differences, and help restore our prosperity, defend our security in a dangerous world, and leave our children and grandchildren a stronger, better country than we inherited.

Whatever our differences, we are fellow Americans. And please believe me when I say no association has ever meant more to me than that."

--Senator John McCain

Knock Knock Knock. Did I catch you at a bad time?

Long long ago and far far away, I was a Girl Scout. Wearing the uniform to school quickly became uncool, but it never bothered me too much. What I really hated was selling those cookies door to door. It's not the selling that bothered me as much as the door to door part. I don't mind selling when someone's shown some indication that they're interested in the product. But interrupting people in their homes? Blech.

Ellie starts Daisy Scouts this week, but we're far away from cookie sales. Her school, on the other hand, does a big fundraiser every fall. This one is pretty great as fundraisers go. Really thick, nice quality wrapping paper and Belgian chocolates. Better, it's the only fundraiser of the year! And proceeds benefit the Parent Teacher Organization which pays for great things for the school. (Under consideration for this year are defibrillators and new furniture for the computer lab, among other projects.)

I've been trying to prepare myself to go door to door with Ellie, and then a great thing happened. One of the first grade classes cheated! The order forms were supposed to come home with all the kids last Thursday, but on Wednesday night we met a first grader from around the corner finishing up her walk around our subdivision. She beat us to the punch! This is great! Now we don't have to go door to door.

But I do want to support the effort. So here we are! If you're interested in buying wrapping paper or chocolates and you'd like the proceeds to benefit Ellie's fantabulous school, click below. Unlike the paper forms and cash orders of yesteryear, it's all about easy online shopping now.

Thanks!

A message from "Ellie" (as generated by the vendor):

My school's annual fundraiser with Innisbrook has begun. Innisbrook Wraps has beautifully designed gift wrap printed on quality recycled paper, coordinating gift wrap accessories, gourmet foods and fine Helen Grace Chocolates that make great gifts, Time Inc. magazine subscriptions, and more.

For every item that is purchased, Innisbrook donates up to 50% of the purchase price to my school. I also earn a prize credit for every item purchased except school supplies. The more prize credits I earn, the more prizes I win!

Please consider visiting the Innisbrook website and making a purchase on my behalf. A link is included below. Our sale will be over soon, so don't wait. Place your order today.

Thanks for your help!

Click the link below to visit Innisbrook.com and they will recognize me and my school automatically.

Click here to shop.

A Childhood Space

Ada and I have been looking at Halloween costume catalogs lately. And I'm a little concerned. Kids' clothes are sized roughly by age, and size 8/10 seems to be a breaking point. "Kids" costumes come sized up to size 8/10, but from size 8/10 on up, every costume is skintight with a micro mini skirt. (Ellie wears a size 6.) And then there's Miley Cyrus and that whole pole dance thing (choreographed with her daddy so it must be OK). And it's not just sex.

We treat little kids like big kids and big kids like adults. Kindergartners listen to pop music and love Hannah Montana and Britney Spears. Fourth graders bring cell phones to elementary school. Families watch sitcoms and movies together that are clearly meant for teens and adults rather than very young children. The advertisements during shows like American Idol are unfit for viewers at any age.

High school teachers get in trouble for critiquing when girls' low-rise jeans expose inches of thong, so one teacher I know hands students a lab coat without comment, expecting them to cover up in class but too afraid of repercussions to be more direct about the problem. Cell phones might not be allowed in class but are ubiquitous. Kids - and their parents, who call to chat during school hours - don't see why this is a problem.

It's sex and body image, it's respect, it's being unplugged long enough to experience the world around you, it's forming identity, it's values, it's education, it's childhood.

Imagine my joy when my daughter's kindergarten teacher started her curriculum night presentation with this quote:

"This time in their lives is just a whisper, a brief moment in which they can enjoy the richness of a childhood space."
-Beverly Bos

Yes. Yes. Yes!

In her classroom, children play. They learn, they follow rules. But they're allowed to be kids. Little kids. Because that's what they are and who they should be.

"Kindergarten looks different from first grade," the teacher said. "Kindergarten feels different from first grade. And kindergarten definitely sounds different from first grade."

My first baby is out on her own in a significant way this year, but she couldn't be in a better place.

I left curriculum night and headed to my friend's house for book club while listening to On Point with Tom Ashbrook. The episode was called Raising Well-Rounded Kids and the guest was Marybeth Hicks, author of Bringing Up Geeks: How to Protect Your Kid’s Childhood in a Grow-Up-Too-Fast World. Geeks is Genuine, Enthusiastic, Empowered Kids, by the way.

The discussion dovetailed perfectly with curriculum night.

It's easy to get sucked along with what everyone around us is doing. And with Ellie being Ellie, we have a little extra pressure to help her conform, to want her to be accepted by her peers. But our job as parents isn't to make our kids happy all the time. Our job is to teach them the values we feel are important. To protect their childhoods by respecting them where they are and not treating them like small adults. To resist the urge to give them too much, allow them too much, push them too much.

All that takes engagement and energy. Good night!

First Day

Today's post delayed by the FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN.

Off to a rough start because Mommy and Daddy were up until 2:00 re-reading all the (numerous!) handouts and handbooks provided by the school. And filling out scores of first-week-of-school forms - didn't we already tell them everything about us last spring at registration?!

Just as we headed to bed, anxious Ellie woke up . . . and didn't go back to sleep until 5:00 AM!!!

There aren't enough exclamation points on the keyboard to make me feel awake today. Or Paul either, presumably, though he's on a conference call at the moment. From the basement office because we both feel like we have to be close to home today.

We're excited, proud, happy, anxious . . . and scared. Yes, we did follow the bus to school.

And I went back and had lunch with her.

Then the bus was late bringing her home. (Due to a freak cloudburst, they decided to keep the children at school rather than loading them onto the buses in the downpour.)

But we made it through! And my Ellie both left and came home smiling. She didn't nap after school, either!

Astronomer Fairy

"My turn! I count 'em planets." Ada nods emphatically. "Muckewy, Venus, Earfh, Moon, Earth, Moon." My 2-year-old gets a little stuck at this point and smiles up at me, waiting for assistance.

She's really into astronomy right now. "Oh, das space! Das earth! Like dat one over der!" she points from the picture drawn by our neighbor's kindergarten grandson to our globe. We've been to The Science Center to "see rocket ships" about three times this spring. And we watch NASA videos (especially launch sequences) nearly daily. This morning, while I was listening to the news on NPR, Ada piped up from the back seat. You see, the reporter mentioned "Hubble" and Ada said, "The Space Telescope!"

(It's worth noting that she also really likes fairies. And dinosaurs. Carousels. And Go, Diego, Go.)

A couple of weeks ago I was bragging on Ellie for her teachers' belief that she can handle kindergarten without an aide. Now it's Ada's turn.

Ada attends a Kids Day Out program at a center that also hosts a preschool. The cut-off for preschool is the end of the year, rather than August like it is for local school districts. So with her January birthday, Ada misses the cut-off for preschool by a few weeks; no big deal. We're not in a rush and she clearly gets academic stimulation . . . everywhere she goes.

The school's director stopped me in the hallway today before I picked Ada up from class. "Have you ever had her tested?" she asked.

"Um, no," I replied, wondering what she suspected was wrong with my daughter. Hearing? Vision? Socialization?

"Because she just seems sort of bright." The director was tentatively feeling me out, hoping I wouldn't be offended. As if.

Turns out, the teachers in Ada's classroom think she'd be bored spending another year in the Kids Day Out program and think she'd love starting preschool early. So that's something to think about! (Preschool is different from kindergarten; she won't start kindergarten early. She might just do 3 years of preschool, probably at two different schools for experience.)

I was wrong before. This is the best age yet! (What's better than curiosity? "I don't know, let's look it up" is already becoming a very common response on my part.)

Ellie's Kindergarten IEP

On Thursday we had Ellie's transition-to-Kindergarten Individualized Education Plan meeting. I was up until 3:00 the night before, but I was ready. I'd talked to my mom, a school psychologist (and former diagnostician and learning disabilities resource room teacher) who attends IEPs regularly. I'd talked to Ellie. I'd met recently with her whole team to discuss Ellie's progress and Present Level.

I reviewed my notes from the how-to meeting on IEPs I attended last year. I went over Ellie's previous IEPs. I updated the sheets Paul and I put together describing our Family Concerns. And I created a sheet listing some fun facts about Ellie (she loves playing with beads!) and lots of cute pictures, so that she'd be a real person to the people in the meeting, the people deciding her kindergarten placement and services, not just a diagnosis and score.

Speaking of scores, I also refused IQ testing for Ellie this year after our LAST horrible experience. When this came up in our meeting, one particular team member - who shall remain anonymous as we have to work with ... her - got this really pinched look about her mouth, but they all accepted our decision. So at least Ellie was more than just a "score" to them. Especially because she was present.

And she did great, for an hour an a half of really boring meeting talk. She sat with us for a while, played with her beads on the floor for a bit, came back to the table for a snack, read some books quietly in the corner, went to the potty with me, then was ready to go. Fortunately, it was time to pick up Ada from school by this time so Paul and Ellie left while I stayed to finish up with the team.

Overall, the meeting went very well (though there were a couple of tense moments with the pinch-faced ... administrator, who seemed kind of mean but was very helpful and knew what she was doing). Present were Ellie's current teacher, speech therapist, and physical therapist. Her OT couldn't make it but sent detailed notes and talked both to me and to the Elementary School OT in advance. Paul, Ellie, and I were there. And, from the Elementary School/school district, two service coordinators (one for early childhood, one for elementary), the principal, the OT, PT, and speech therapists, the resource room teacher, and the classroom teacher attended. It was a packed room!

The verdict: Ellie will be fully included in full-day Kindergarten this fall. She will progress throughout the day with her class, with occasional push-in and pull-out therapies. She will spend at least 80% of her day fully included in the classroom. (During math time she'll be pulled out for help, and during "play centers" time she'll also have a pull-out session. She'll be receiving PT, OT, Speech Therapy, and Special Education.)

She will not have a paraprofessional assigned to her, with two exceptions. There will be someone to assist Ellie at potty time, until she's shown that she can handle the whole process completely independently. And there will be an extra set of eyes on her on the playground, since it's bordered by lovely woodland areas but not fenced. She'll ride the special needs bus, because I still want her in the safety harness. (I love the short bus.)

I'm a little giddy, from happiness, excitement, and worry. I loved school so much, and I want Ellie to love it, too. I want her to have enough support to allow her to learn all she can without getting overly frustrated and giving up, but I don't want her to become too dependent on a paraprofessional or allow a full-time hands-on aide to add to a sense of distance and isolation between Ellie and her peers.

Curbside drop-off. Independent transitions between activities. True academics. PE, art, music (two of these per day). Lunch in the cafeteria. Recess. School!

Waldorfessori v. Public

I don't want to say that things were easy for my parents when my sisters and I were small, because they weren't!

But some of the decisions about which activities we'd participate in and when, how we'd be educated, etc., those were perhaps a little simpler.

For example, I took gymnastics classes at the YMCA as a kid. But there was only so far I could go with that, both because I wasn't very good and also because there were no equipped training facilities around. I took dance classes for years, once a studio opened up in town that wasn't intimately tied to the child beauty pageant scene. My mother had one gymnastics program, one dance school to choose from! I played a musical instrument - starting in 5th grade when they were introduced in schools. I played lots of organized sports - but just t-ball and softball over the summers until junior high, when school sports were introduced and I choose volleyball, basketball, and dance squad/drill team. (I stuck with the music and the volleyball, later adding in golf. The rest eventually fell by the wayside.)

But now, there are so many choices! And if you don't have your preschooler in the right programs today, she might not be able to compete with her classmates and teammates later! How do you even know what the options are, let alone what your child would actually enjoy doing later, at such an early age? And why does it all have to be so difficult?!

I am a product of public education, K-12. Rah rah rah! And I went on to a highly ranked private university! On academic scholarship! Which I kept for 4 years, whereupon I graduated and got a job! Success!

But. Might I have done better if I'd been otherwise prepared? I did very well in high school, and had parents who were both both highly educated and highly involved with my life and education. Yet I was not prepared for college. I saw how easily some of the kids from private high schools took to life away at university, and I was jealous.

In my town, my parents had a choice: public school or Catholic? We're not Catholic. (Plus, the small Catholic school couldn't offer nearly as many resources as the larger public school.)

But my children and I currently live in a much larger community with a dizzying array of educational choices. Public, private, parochial. Montessori, Waldorf, special focus/magnet.

Is public education still the best? Shouldn't the children attend the same school? Is the same solution right for both of them?

Might not Ellie really benefit from a close-knit, bonded classroom like that found in a Waldorf program, where the focus is on age-appropriate development, development of imaginative play, and learning as a group/unit?

But might not Ada feel frustrated in that environment and want something different and self-paced, where she can indulge her fascination with rockets/shuttle launches/flight? And dinosaurs. And butterflies.

At our local public elementary school, kindergartners do yoga, therapy services are integrated into the classroom when possible, and third graders are taught violin. So maybe that is best for both children, after all.

And it is free, a not-trivial-consideration.

But as a parent, how do you deal with the pressure to make the right choices for your children when they're too young to decide on their own? How do you deal with the guilt of wondering if you've chosen rightly or wrongly, if you're doing enough, if they're involved in too many activities, or the wrong ones, or not enough of them, if later your children will wish that you'd done something differently and you'll look back and think, of course, it's obvious, I should have done that right from the beginning?

One thing I know for sure; I will not be homeschooling. I would not be good at it. I would hate it. (And therefore so would the children.) But most of all, I wouldn't be able to handle the constant and crippling guilt that I was making the wrong decisions and doing everything wrong!

Full-Day Kindergarten

This morning, I was interviewed on camera by the preschool director for our school district.

"What do you look forward to with your child to experience in kindergarten?"

"I hope that in kindergarten, learning to read, she really starts to develop an independent love of learning, and the realization that she can teach herself new things. I also hope that she'll develop her sense of independence."

"What concerns do you have about your child entering kindergarten?"

"My husband and I loved school so much and we want that for our daughter, too. I'm just so afraid that she'll find kindergarten too hard and will want to give up. I'm afraid that she won't like it, that it will be too different from play-based preschool. And I'm a little scared of all the independence she'll have and the room for making bigger mistakes."

Then we went next door to Ellie's classroom and the teacher attempted to interview Ellie. We'd practiced at home, of course, but she was absolutely not really into it. And who could blame her? Sure, we blather on about "kindergarten" from time to time. But what does this strange word mean? It sounds like our beloved "Musikgarten." Come to think of it, what is "next year," anyway? And new schools are nothing big to her; she's been in five classrooms in three preschools already.

"I wonder what you will do in kindergarten?"

Ellie did this little mutter thing she does where she doesn't make eye contact and doesn't use actual words but mumbles along like Charlie Brown's teacher. This is not unlike what I do when I don't know the words but want to keep singing. Or when I feel like I should know the answer the rest of the group is reciting.

"Ellie, what do you think you will do in kindergarten?"

"New friends," she said very quietly, smiling at her sister playing on the trampoline directly behind her . . . and turning completely away from the camera.

"What do you think you will learn in kindergarten?"

I can tell you what she did not say. She did not talk about computers or reading, as her father and I had suggested to her during our earlier practice sessions.

"I wonder what you will like the most about going to kindergarten?"

Ellie did not mention eating lunch at school or riding the bus. In fact, it was pretty obvious that she was not into this scene and was so done. She headed off to play.

I shrugged at the preschool director and cameraman. It happens. And there were lots of other children to interview.

Back at home, over lunch, I flipped through the day's mail.

"Dear Parent,
We received a number of applications for our Full-Day Kindergarten Program and twenty children for one class were selected through a random drawing. Although your child's name was not drawn . . . "

Ack! Not even in kindergarten and already a rejection letter, if not a personal one. We applied for the limited full-day program because we know that Ellie will be pulled out of the classroom some for therapy serives and we worry about her missing too much class. But all that will be addressed after her transition I.E.P meeting and we're not too worried about the schedule yet.

A couple of hours later, after naptime (we're sort of back on naptime) I was chatting with Ellie about kindergarten again. She still wasn't very into it. The phone rang.

Ellie's principal is an interesting dude. We know him from her stint in the early childhood room at the local elementary school, and he's very nice, easily approachable, and extremely accessible to the children. He's young and handsome: tan with white teeth and curly blond hair. He also has the highest voice I've ever heard from an adult man. It's much, much higher than mine. I don't type in pitch, so you'll have to use your imagination here.

"I'm calling with good news!" he said. "So many families were interested in full-day kindergarten for next year that both classrooms will be full-day! Eleanor will be in Mrs. X's class or Mrs. Y's class, and . . . "

It's starting to feel almost real.

Next year, I will have a child in elementary school. She'll be doing things like going into the building on her own. And losing baby teeth.

I'm sure I'll be doing things like turning grey and biting off my fingernails.