My son began Kindergarten last week. The days leading up to his first day of school were filled with anticipation and preparation. We had to buy clothes for his school uniform. We got a backpack for his work. We prepared a place where all schoolwork could be placed when it comes home. My son had a difficult time sleeping the night before school, and was anxious to get to school that first morning. He barely ate breakfast. At the school playground, he quickly found a new friend, met his teacher, and began the process of adjusting to his new environment. I was excited for him, but also overwhelmed by the passing of time. It seems yesterday I was with his mother in the delivery room, waiting for him to enter this world. The time goes so quickly.
I also considered my memories from kindergarten. They are few. I remember my first day of school. My teacher told us one of our goals for the school year was to count from 1 to 100. Well, I already knew how to do that. So, I raised my hand, told my teacher I could already count from 1 to 100. She sent me to the teacher’s aid, who listened to me accurately count from 1 to 100, and then count backward from 100 to 1. Thanks, Mom, for investing in my life early on.
I also remember two humbling experiences. The first came on the playground. My mom had bought me a green sweater that had a pocket with Sesame Street’s Oscar the Grouch on the pocket. The pocket was Oscar’s trash can. I was so proud of my sweater. But, the first day I wore it, kids made fun of it during recess, and started putting playground trash in my trash can pocket. It mad me mad, and embarrassed. I never wore that sweater again, but I could never tell my Mom why I didn’t want to wear it. The other humbling experience came when I was unable to get to the bathroom in time and had an accident. I didn’t have a change of clothes, and I had to be assisted by the teacher’s aid as she hung my wet underwear in the bathroom, and I had to return to the classroom with wet pants. Oh, did I get picked on for that!
When I started Kindergarten, my Mom was pregnant with my sister. A neighborhood friend, Kimberly, also had a mother expecting a child. Kimberly wanted a baby brother. I wanted a baby sister. This was in a day when you did not find out the baby’s sex before birth. Kimberly and I decided (in a rather naïve, kindergarten way) that if my Mom had a boy, and her mom had a girl that we would exchange the babies during the middle of the night. We figured that nobody would be the wiser, and we would both then get what we wanted for a baby sibling. Yes, we had a lot to learn about anatomy, and a mother’s knowledge of her baby. Amazingly, our mother’s both went into labor on the same day, the babies were both born on the same day, and the ladies shared a room while in the hospital. And, yes, I got my baby sister and Kimberly got her baby brother. No midnight exchanges were needed.
For some reason, I always had a a difficult time telling my family when something was wrong in my life. A case in point occurred in Kindergarten. It was parent-teacher conference time. My Mom sent me with a note to my teacher asking if they could hold the parent-teacher conference during a carnival fundraising night at the school. My teacher wrote a note giving my Mom an answer, and bobby-pinned the note to my shirt (to this day, I don’t know why teachers used to clip notes to children’s clothing). I took the school bus home that day, with my note pinned to my shirt. You guessed it. Some of the older kids began to tease me, and took the note off my shirt. I couldn’t tell my Mom about the incident, so when she asked about her note, I told her that my teacher said, “Yes.” So, my parents went to the carnival fundraiser, asked my teacher if now would be a good time for the conference, and found out that my teacher had pinned the note to my shirt saying that she would not have the time for a conference that evening. I had to explain to everyone what had happened, and broke down in tears.
My final memory of Kindergarten is very sad. During that year, my maternal grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Upon hearing the news, my grandmother had a massive heart attack that evening and died. Her funeral was planned on the same day as my Kindergarten graduation. So, I missed my graduation and sat by my Mom and ailing grandfather that day at my grandmother’s funeral. My grandfather died six weeks later.
That final memory really resonates with me as I sent my son to kindergarten. We do not know what today or tomorrow holds. Those things we choose to do today, or not do, cannot be redone or replayed. My time with my maternal grandparents was limited to six years. I have such fond memories of both of them. So I want to seize each opportunity I have with my children to create great memories, and to teach them as much as I can. I don’t know what memories my son will take from his Kindergarten year. I pray some of his memories are terrific. I also pray that he has some memories that are embarrassing, or humbling, not because I dislike him, but because I want him to grow through those experiences. Here’s to a fantastic year, with many teachable moments – for my son and for me.
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