Kindergarten

Last night nobody slept well. Leo couldn't get to sleep and came up to our bed followed by Sylvie around 4:30 at which point we switched them up. Sylvie had a little anxiety about speaking Spanish on the first day. She mentioned it a few times in the last week. We, of course, were very encouraging and pressure-free about her abilities. At the two orientations the school was very clear about not asking your child what they learned in Spanish for a few months.

I let the alarm go off a few times, due to lack of good rest but then bolted up at 7:45, Joey and I made two lunches, got two breakfasts together, and then took the kids to get on their outfits. Leo kept saying, "I DON'T LIKE MY CLASS!" Sylvie didn't like the shirt I picked out. Oh well.

After writing her name in all of the uniform pieces I have been collecting over the last few weeks, Sylvie has a drawer of white clothes and a drawer full of navy clothes. I got to pick out her outfit today and Joey wondered if I was loving it. She did look cute.

Upstairs we took some photos outside next to the one-year-old heirloom fig tree. I hope that will be our tradition so we can watch the tree grow as the children grow. Sylvie was all sass still at that point, as you can see in the photos.

I could see her face changing in the rear-view mirror as we got closer to the school and witnessed the pilgrimage of parents with kids in their uniforms and ill-fitting over sized backpacks. As we got out of the car we met Liam and Erin who we know through other friends but Sylvie and Liam were both being shy and couldn't deal with each other. Can you imagine walking into a conference where everyone is wearing the same outfit and a briefcase that is so big they have to contort their bodies to hold it up?

As we approached the building Sylvie says "I don't think I can do this Mommy". I reassured her, "Yes, you can, look at all of the other kids who are doing it too!" Still, once we got to the playground with the chaos and the jungle gym, it was me who was teary and she noticed. I told her I was only crying because I am so proud of her and how smart she is.

As the classes lined up on their little painted white lines, I stood next to her while Joey and Leo waited in the background. Sylvie and I walked through the hallway lined with flags and Sylvie said "I see the American Flag, Mama". The "kindergarten pod" was more chaotic and I couldn't even squeeze through to hang up her backpack. As we approached the desk we were greeted by a teaching assistant who said "Buenos Dias!" when I didn't answer in Spanish, she repeated "Buenos Dias" with a look of combined scolding and encouraging (you know the kind only a teacher can give) and I replied "OLA".

The teacher asked her her name in Spanish "Como se llama?" and Sylvie bowed her chin and didn't answer. When I told the teacher Sylvie's name she looked at me and said more Spanish - something about remembering meeting me at the orientation. We found Sylvie's name on a desk and she sat down and was encouraged to use a crayon to color. She said "MAMA! I don't know how to make a star!" This is when I had to clench my teeth, smile hard and walk away. I couldn't speak without crying so I grabbed Leo from Joey. We peeked back to check on Sylvie and she had taken her pretty white bow out her hair. She asked me to put it in her backpack. One look back and we were gone. Leo and I walked out through the front door. I couldn't make eye-contact with anyone.

Then we went to the JCC. We had to park in the farthest reaches of the parking lot because we were late. Leo's denial had reached the point where he was insisting we were going to dance class because he doesn't want to go to his school! Even though I told him I would be leaving, he was in shock all over again (yesterday was his first day) and screamed "I WANNA COME WIT CHU!" "I WANNA TAKE YOU WITH ME MAMA!" He even reached the point where he wanted his nanny "I want ALICIA!" This is the point where the teachers swarm in and start in on their list of distracting ideas. None worked. I had to literally wrench his hand off of mine. As I left the building I saw a friend and couldn't hold back tears so at least I got a really good empathetic hug from someone who totally gets where I was.

BUT, in all of the commotion of this morning, I left Leo's lunchbox in the car. So, off to parking lot Guam to get it with the full hopes that he will have calmed down and I will sneak it into the room without him seeing while getting a glimpse of him happily playing. I walked back down the hallway only to see him being walked outside the room by the teacher in the hopes of calming down and the whole tragic scene was replayed.

That was two hours ago and I am still reeling. It will never be great but it will get better. Leo is done for the week at least and will have some familiar activities in the next two days. I have no idea what Sylvie is going to do. Her phase of being a young five year-old along with her general pouty-ness will mean she will probably come home with a few "nobody likes me" and "everyone was looking at me" and "I don't like it!"s but I know that she is looking forward to conquering the monkey bars and the rings because I saw her eyeing them on the way in.

I feel like we just closed the book on our baby days. No more is our life flexible and free. Now our whole family is locked into the rhythm of public school rules and regs and attendance performance ratings. We can't take off for Gig Harbor on Friday at noon and we can't pick her up at 2:00 just cause we want to.

I remember elementary school so well. It was an indoctrination into the bureaucratic system where there are some rules that don't make any sense, there is paperwork going home all the time, you have to wear your name and phone number on your wrist, and your teacher doesn't really give a shit about you. You can't even go to the bathroom when you want to. I know times have changed since 1975 but I still have to order that I.D. bracelet for Sylvie and fill out about 15 forms.

This quote from Golda Meier is exactly how I feel right now:

At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent.