Our Kindergartner

Little Miss started Kindergarten today.  She was excited until we arrived and she noticed a few kids clutching their parents legs and crying.  Her expression said something like:  "Hmm, I guess I'm supposed to be scared now."  Then she clutched my legs, but I didn't feel like she was fully invested in the clutch.

Parents were invited to stay for the first story of the year, the first story of school (wow!).  Her teacher, Ms. Marjorie-Lynn, read a book titled:  "The Kissing Hand."  It was a sweet story about a kiddie Raccoon and his mother.  Read it sometime, it's enjoyable and sweet.

After that, we said our goodbyes.  Little Miss was a little nervous, but when I asked her to sit down, she happily said, "Okay!" Right before I left the room, she blew me a kiss and smiled the smile she reserves for her favorite people.  My heart warmed and I knew we'd both be all right.

When I picked her up, she happily talked to me about her day.  She said her favorite part of the day was playing on the playground and coloring.  I asked if she met anyone new and she said, "Nope, I felt like playing by myself today."  That response suits her personality, so I'm not worried, just amused.  I hope she feels comfortable enough to talk to the other kids.  All of them seemed kind and one of them is a neighbor with whom she felt no qualms yelling at from our backyard when she saw him standing in his.  ("HEY!  YOUR'E IN MY CLASS!!")

I wish my kids didn't have to grow up and go to school, but then, when I see how they progress and grow, I know I can't hold them back.  I'm just grateful I can be a mother to two of the best kiddies I know.

Little Miss was too excited and apprehensive to take a picture, but I tried to get something . . . So here she is, on the first day of school:

She's decided, once again, that pink is her favorite color.  She looks so much older than a kindergartner.  

Walking in . . . 

Walking out . . .

   

My Favorite Fourth Grader

The last time I felt really good about B-Man beginning a school year was when he started first grade.  Why, you say?  I'm glad you asked:

We felt absolutely certain we were where we were supposed to be three years ago when B started first grade.  Since then, we've experienced many moves, uncertainty, unemployment, underemployment, a school with a bully, and school transfers.  It's taken nearly three years, but we're finally getting our life to a new normal.  It feels great!

So now, it's time to begin a new year, at a new school, with a new backpack, and a pair of Nike high-tops (yes, high-tops have made a comeback, and yes, I struggled when deciding whether or not we should pay for the extra two inches of shoe material).  B, and the rest of us are apprehensive, but we're also eager to begin and hope he finds good friends.

I miss him already.  He is the best fourth grader I know.

 

B-Man and the Bully

A few Friday's ago, I picked B-Man up from school and asked him how his day went; in his words:  "Not good."

Anxiously, I've been asking him how his day went more frequently.  It started on his first day at his new school when some boys wouldn't let him play tag during recess.  It continued on the second when they wouldn't let him play soccer.  He'd never had trouble making friends and I wasn't too worried because he had only been at his new school for two days.  In the days and weeks that followed, he'd come home and would say he couldn't find anyone to play with him.  "No one sits by me at lunch," he complained.  He said the kids weren't kind.  "They said bad words, Mom," he said on another day.  I encouraged him not to play with them.  We prayed he'd find good kids.  I told Mr. P of my worry that they might single him out and bullying may ensue.  We considered homeschooling.

Then, my worry came to fruition.  On that Friday, one of the boys sat beside him in the lunch room.  "I'm going to punch you," said the boy, "we're going to play a game called war."  

B didn't want to play.  He went to tell the teacher, but not before the boy hit him in the back, scratched and pinched him.  The teacher told the boy to stop and the boy got mad.  When I picked B up, he looked worried as he said, "He's going to find me and want to fight."  

I called the Mister.  It took Mr. P 10 minutes to get home.  Minutes after that, he and I were sitting in the Principal's office.  I told the Mister to do the talking because I was too close to tears.  The Principal hadn't heard about the incident and after we explained what happened, she asked us to read between the lines as she generally explained the other boy's background.

We asked how we could collaborate and make B's experience at the school a positive one ... Her solution was moving B into a different classroom because that would get him to sit in another part of the cafeteria during lunch and they wouldn't be in the same class.  

"We still can't watch everything on the playground," she explained, "but at least we can change his learning environment."

Change classrooms we did (we let B make the decision) and we are waiting, as patiently as we can for things to change.  There have been a few incidents since that Friday, but things seem to be progressing and B no longer asks to be home schooled; he no longer asks me to play with him at recess when I come to volunteer; he doesn't seem as worried about making friends as he did; even more, he's started playing with boys again - he would only play with the girls because he thought they were kinder.  Also, he's learned who to avoid on the playground.  The preceding changes may seem minor, but to me, they are welcome and almost monumental.  

That weekend wasn't all bad.  B was baptized the next day and those present included good friends and loving family.  If anything, the bully helped make B's special day sweeter.  Knowing he has the tools necessary to judge for himself heightens my desire to instill in him all the goodness and good sense I can.  Even more important is the support we get.  B knows he is loved and appreciated.  He knows he has good friends who are kind.  He knows this situation will pass.  

As for Mr. P and myself, we just hope the things he learns during the last six weeks of school will include subjects like:  math, reading, social studies and science.  We don't think we're asking for too much.  

B with his favorite friends on his Baptism Day.