This fall marks one of my son’s big milestone events: on September 1, 2011, he will join the ranks of the class of 2024 as he enters kindergarten. It’s hard to believe, for so many reasons. Time seems to be creeping along and flying by all at the same time, like some slo-mo scene in an action-packed martial arts film: frozen in mid-leap, then suddenly kicked in the jaw and sprawling on the ground.
Don’t get me wrong, I am excited for this new adventure, both his and mine. He is so ready. I talk up kindergarten whenever it can be naturally inserted into the conversation—my child is one who, like his mother, appreciates a little mental preparation for upcoming events. We talk about meeting new friends, having a new teacher, learning cool things. So far his chief concerns have been riding the bus (which he has decided against (for no particular reason), which is just fine because we don’t live far enough for that anyway) and what types/amount of new toys will be available. He’s excited that our neighbor across the street will be starting school this year, too, although I carefully caution that we do not know if she will be in the same class or not. His enthusiasm at the prospect of shedding his pre-school skin and spreading his wings in the big world of public school grows daily, although I suspect a few fears, tears, and laughs along the way, both his and mine.
My part of the adventure formally began this past week, when the 2011 parental cohort converged on our elementary school for the time-honored tradition of Kindergarten Parent Orientation Night. Clearly institutionalized, we lined up in front of the appropriately labeled boxes containing alphabetized packets of information, glossy folders neatly stuffed with what appeared to be a ream of paper. The left side contained all manner of informational flyers: calendars, PTO, afterschool program, registration requirements… The right side, and certainly the more intimidating of the two, contained all manner of forms, requiring completion and submission to the appropriate entity. But more on them later…
Packets in hand, we were set to navigate the halls to the various kindergarten classrooms to get a peek at where our kids would be spending the next academic year of their lives. What I saw impressed me. The classes, as one might expect, were warm and inviting. There was art everywhere, and not just the children’s own art, but Renoir and Van Gogh. Different areas of the classrooms were designated as learning centers for a variety of subjects. I felt my anticipation grow as I made my way to the auditorium.
The evening began with the school’s principal, a man so full of genuine enthusiasm that he could not help but rub off on you. Before introducing several key players, he gave an overview of the philosophical approach of the school. I listened intently, every moment growing more ecstatic that this was the place my son would start his formal education.
He started off speaking about positive reinforcement. Studies reveal, he said, that in the most effective disciplinary model, students should receive 6 positive comments for every negative/corrective comment. Many schools do the opposite.
One way they work to achieve this model is through clearly stated expectations. All over the school are postings stating what the expectations are in that area: auditorium, cafeteria, hallway. Great little colorful, laminated signs worded in a positive way that tell kids what is acceptable. I am totally groovin’ on this. I’m a firm believer in clear expectations—and then expecting my child to meet them. I’m on board.
He continued by describing Monday morning assembly, his words paint he picture: all the students in the school meet in the auditorium on Monday morning, greeted by a drum choir (like the drum line in band). The drummers are front and center, tapping out their beats. Student can’t help but pick up on it and begin moving to the music-a sea of elementary kids bopping and swaying. A tactile, literal example of getting everybody in the same rhythm, off on the same foot, to start their week in a positive way. Are you kidding me? I LOVE it! This is just too good to be true.
He tells us how they listen to the kids and their ideas on improving the school through various experiences and opportunities. As an example, he tells us about the circle ceremony.
It seems that a 5th grade class had a teacher whose mother passed away during the school year. The students took their teacher’s loss to heart and began thinking about life and the journey each of us was on. They decided they wanted to create something to reflect this journey, and came up with the Circle Ceremony. It goes like this:
On the first day of school, the new kindergarteners go out on their very own kindergarten playground, where a circle is painted on the ground. As the principal calls each child’s name, they step onto the circle, with their parent/guardian behind them. This symbolizes them being welcomed into the circle of friends, and that there will always be someone standing behind them to support them along the way. On the last day of 5th grade, the same students go out to the kindergarten playground; this time, they stand on the circle. When the principal calls their name, they step off the circle, then take a last lap through the hallways of the school, where the students in all the other classes stand in the hall outside their rooms and clap for them. This symbolizes them being ready to move on to the next phase of their lives.
The story gave me chills, and after thinking how sweet and nurturing and supportive this environment was, my immediate next thought was: “and then you’re gonna send him off to middle school and they’ll ruin it all!!” Ok, really? I’m on the verge of tears, now I’m worried about 6th grade and middle school, and my son hasn’t even STARTED kindergarten yet!
The evening went on, briskly hitting the basics, to be covered more in depth at a later time: PTO officers introducing the organization and fund raisers (no candy bars, gift wrap, bundt cakes—yea!!), the school nurse, and the teachers themselves, addressing a ‘day in the life’ and some basic expectations/preparations for our budding kindergarteners to be. I was thrilled to find that not one but TWO of the four kindergarten teachers are men. As a single mom, I’d love to have him wind up in one of their classes as another positive male role model in his life, although I know he’ll do well no matter which teacher he’s placed with.
After all the presentations, came the mad rush to sign up for the Kindergarten Visit day next week, where my son gets to go and play for a bit while I turn in the mountain of paperwork currently weighing down the right side of my folder.
Among my forms and official looking documents is another requirement—to write a letter to his future, as yet unnamed teacher introducing my son to him/her: his strengths, weaknesses, passions, personality. A simple, yet monumental task. It’s difficult to explain the mix of emotions that this journey evokes, but as I write this, a lyric comes to mind: “put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion.”
It’s going to be a long (and short) few months…
PostModernMommy 