Casey started kindergarten Monday.
And I am still terribly conflicted. It was a wonderful day, complete with finagled pizza at lunch time and a box full of plastic zoo animals he was allowed to play with not once, but
twice. He made friends and liked his teacher. It was so great that he faked being well today. Wesley got him all the way to the classroom door before realizing Casey was actually pretty darn sick and starting to run a fever.
When he jumped into the car yesterday at pick up, Casey was flush with excitement. He "forgot" his lunch box at class, but he bought pizza from the cafeteria line! There were toys! And coloring! Tomorrow he may get to go on the playground!
I am beyond thrilled that Casey enjoyed himself.
Beyond. I won't lie, I was worried he would be shy and awkward and that maybe I screwed things up by not putting him in preschool or daycare. That his extreme anxiety during our 'Meet the Teacher' event meant he would be rendered incapacitated with fear when I left him all alone. But no, it was great. The school is great. The teacher is great.
He is great.
So, why am I so off kilter?
Possibly because it
was so great. Proof positive that my kid
is socialized. He
can function in the world without me. We
have done a good job. So good, in fact that this bubble boy of mine heard what was offered for lunch in the cafeteria, decided he liked that better than his packed lunch, and
he went and got it. So good, in fact that I couldn't find one thing on the curriculum that he doesn't already know.
And there it is.
There's my issue.
I convinced myself to enroll him in kindergarten with the mindset that it would teach him things outside the purview of book knowledge. Things I couldn't expose him to myself. He would learn to function in the world beyond his little family. But I don't think I gave us enough credit. Because we
do push him. We
do teach our kids how to function in the real world. And I
don't keep him holed up in our kitchen writing lessons hour after hour.
Today Casey stayed home. Not because he wanted to, or even because I wanted him to. He slept off his fever in the morning and we fell right back into our routine this afternoon. It was nice. He's working on penmanship and punctuation. We've started learning multiplication tables. He reads and tells time. He knows his days and months and can decipher a map. On Sunday, Casey wrote a short story about being chased by a polar bear. I worried the polar bear was a subconscious analogy for starting school. But I'm thinking now, that maybe he just likes bears.
And before anyone sends an irate email chastising me for not giving school nearly enough time (
duh), rest assured Casey is going back as soon as he feels better. Probably tomorrow morning. Of
course one day isn't enough to get a full picture. We're giving it at least a week. (
KIDDING). In reality, there's no timeline. I will know when I know. Or maybe I'll never know and you'll be listening to this angsty tirade for the next umpteen years. At least he'll have a written narrative to bring to his therapist.
