This entry was posted on Thursday, August 27th, 2009 at 10:00 am and is filed under Family Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Perhaps its because I moved away from my family home and can completely relate to the subject matter, or maybe it’s just because it’s amazing. Either way, this is one of the best posts I’ve read in a very long time.
Moving on. My daughter started preschool yesterday. No, not her first year of preschool, her second year. Of course I experienced all the usual feelings and emotions associated with sending your kid back to school. Like how last year the hemline on her jumper was here,
and this year its here.
No, not because she’s getting older and wants to wear it shorter. Because she’s just getting older period. That’s the same jumper. Unaltered. She grew that much.
In addition to becoming painfully aware of the rapid nature in which time seems to pass once children arrive, however, I noticed something else odd in myself.
I have transformed into an early education badass. I have schoolyard cred. I represent.
I noticed this transformation the night before the first day of school. There is a parents-only meeting that begins with a large assembly in the auditorium, after which the parents break off into smaller groups and have round-robin meet-and-greets in their children’s new classrooms with their children’s new teachers. You might think I would have acted somewhat reserved; paying attention to what was being said, socializing with the other parents and listening. Instead I blew into the parking lot with my family acting like a high school senior quarterback in a room full of freshmen. I can’t tell you why but, for some reason on the drive over, I became aware that there would be rookie parents there. I snorted. They have no idea what they are doing, I thought to myself. I am a pro. I am a veteran. I will show them.
“No no no no! Don’t take that coffee,” I said to an introverted father who was putting a quarter into a coffee machine. “They’ll have fresh stuff inside and it’s way better! But let it cool off a little, they always brew it too hot! At least that’s how it was last year! HA HA HA!”
“Make sure you sign in here!” I explained in a loud voice, completely cutting off the teacher that was trying to show new parents how to check their kid in and out of school, “And if you get here early, better use the sign in sheet underneath the top one, because they won’t have gotten rid of the old one yet!” I nodded for emphasis and walked proudly away as they stood there in silence, staring at the teacher then back at me.
During the meeting, one concerned mother, clearly worried about her child’s well being, raised her nervous hand and asked a question regarding the school’s policy when it came to children who cried all day as a result of being separated from their parents. Again I burst in.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I bellowed, rolling my eyes while the teacher stared at me, her mouth still open in an attempt to answer the woman’s question first. “You have to bring a picture of yourself. You know, so they can show your child your face if they cry a lot. Seriously,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Not a big deal.” I could tell my confidence made the woman feel better.
My most successful attempt in proving my veteran status came when one of the teachers informed us that there were suggestion boxes, as well as email addresses where parents could, anonymously or not, leave feedback regarding faculty performance, school curriculum, or anything else that bothered them.
“Yeah! OR, you can also send texts about sucky things the teachers do to all the other parents and start a whole deceitful network of rumors and lies that has to be addressed by the principal!” I chided to the entire room of parents with a huge grin on my face. “Ain’t that right, Miss Tracy? Huh? HUH?” I added loudly, winking and elbowing one of the teachers standing next to me. She didn’t smile, and sort of just looked at me all serious, but I could tell she was impressed by how much I knew about school gossip and events that had occurred the year before and thought I was pretty cool.
When we walked out of the meeting most of the other parents avoided me. I wasn’t bothered, as this is pretty typical behavior when people are intimidated. Rookies hang with rookies, veterans with veterans. It’s just the natural order of things. Granted, none of the veteran parents talked to me either, but I assumed it was just because after seeing how knowledgeable about preschool I was, they didn’t want to come off as not knowing as much, and thus thought it best to keep their distance.
When all was said and done, I was feeling pretty good about myself. Who would have thought that a guy who was so nervous about sending his kid to school a year ago would turn out to be such a pro? Funny how life works.
-Matt
Lots of cool back-to-school stuff on sale at our online kids store, RedSparks. Take a look!
August 27th, 2009 at 12:11 pm
Who knew that you and I are actually so…so…similar? Because I am fairly sure that I am the only parent who actually LIKES it when the teachers actually cringe when they see me coming. Yep, good times.
Kori´s last blog ..I hate cell phones and chy is still missing
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August 28th, 2009 at 2:13 am
Yikes. I’m kinda grinning and kinda cringing. I wonder what Frankie would have thought?
– Good weekend to you all!
Chuck´s last blog ..Warning Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!
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August 29th, 2009 at 5:34 am
Matt, you didn’t, really?
Glad you’re back, but will have to come back later to read about the flyaway.
Barbara´s last blog ..Kick the tires.
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