First day of Kindergarten

My apologies in advance if I ramble a bit on this one. Today is little miss OOP's first day of Kindergarten. I really can't explain why this feels like such a big deal, but it does. She had gone to preschool, but somehow this seems different. I think part of that was walking her to the bus stop this morning rather than driving her to school and dropping her off at her classroom.

Mrs. OOP insisted on bringing her camera and taking pictures. The little one kept wandering way to close to the street (at least in my mind). A part of me expected my daughter to panic and hide behind me once the time came to get on the bus by herself, but she couldn't get on board fast enough. She didn't even look back (she did wave from her seat ). Obviously, I was much more nervous about the whole thing than my daughter was.

Yesterday, I was laughing at a story about one of my wife's friends who followed the bus to school on her son's first day of Kindergarten. Today, I may not have considered doing it, but I understand how she felt. I am such a softie when it comes to my little girl.

I'd love to hear some of other parents' stories about their little ones heading off to school for the first time. Anybody else going through the same thing this week?

Do any of you really remember your first day of Kindergarten? I'm drawing a blank on mine. I probably didn't think much of it because the school was only two blocks away and I had already been to the playground there many times.

 

Congrats, oop. She'll be fine. If you didn't take the little darling to school or follow the bus, you are way ahead of must parents.

I don't remember the first day of kindergarten but we moved midway through and I remember getting off at the wrong bus stop and getting lost.

 

Congrats on reaching another family milestone, oop. Kindergarten is a big deal for a kid and their parents.

We did the pictures thing for both our boys, for sure.

Now, I'm closer in time to taking the boys away to college than to their first day of kindergarten. That's a somewhat depressing thought.

Don't recall much of my kindergarten days at all, much less the first day. About all I've got is I can recall Mike Willett constantly being in trouble and having to sit in the chair in the corner of the class, and our classroom being visited by the crusty, old, school maintenance guy, Mr. Belding (yes, that's correct) who always walked around with an unlit cigar butt in his mouth.

 

OOP, I'm there with you. My son started kindergarten a few weeks ago and my daughter started last year. Both are at a school that has all-day kindergarten, so it was a major adjustment for both when they started.

Mrs. Bubbler was pretty emotional about it. We did the picture-taking thing, etc. Nothing wrong with any of it.

I was pretty philosophical. I love my kids more than anything, but I'm proud to watch them grow up, and I was proud to accompany them to their first day (we live two blocks away from school, so either Mrs. Bubbler or I walk them everyday).

I got a little wistful, knowing that when I walked away, things were going to change to a degree, but I don't long for them to stay young forever. My daughter loves school, my son is adjusting, but also generally enjoys it, so I know it's good for them. Maybe I'll have more of an emotional pull when I get older.

The bigger adjustment for me, and one I struggle with, is with both kids going all-day, I rarely get to see them. I leave for work generally about an hour after they get home, sometimes before, so that's real tough. I think it's hard on them too. I'm having a much bigger problem with that right now than anything else.

As for my first day? I sort of remember it. Neeskara School in Milwaukee. I remember being kind of numbly nervous, but I also remember being excited by the massive, concrete playground Neeskara had (and still has). I can still remember posing on the big concrete steps for a picture in my blue jacket.

Neeskara was/is one of those big, urban, gothic-ish schools built in the 1920s. I remember the hallways being real distinctive, with all kinds of cubby holes to hide out in. Mrs. Baker was my teacher. I don't recall much else, other than napping on those red-and-blue mats that were popular in the mid-to-late 70s and a big-ass wooden display board falling on me at one point.

 

It explains a lot.

 

Knew that was coming.

 

Bubbler, if you can, make sure you spend quality time with them on the weekends -- be it playing catch, helping them with their homework (when they get older and have some) or just hanging out.

My dad's schedule changed to nights when I was in sixth grade. He left for work a half-hour before I got out of school, and I wasn't much of a morning person, so we saw each other for about 30-45 minutes in the morning (before he went back to sleep) and on the weekends.

Of course, by that point I was a bonafide daddy's girl, so it took a little adjustment (and I didn't have any siblings to battle with for his time). He walked me to the bus stop every morning so we could chat, his boss (warehouse, not newspapers) was flexible one day a week each spring so my dad could still coach my softball team and we'd do one father-daughter thing each weekend, sans mom.

 

My two memories of kindergarten were sort of traumatic -- not really, I guess -- and both involve my mother.

For all but four years, I was at the same school as my mom or my dad, both teachers, and I was their student for five years. At my old school in Liverpool, N.Y., the kindergarten teachers traded students for about an hour or two a day, so my mom was my teacher for half of my half-day.

I remember getting a little artsy, and a little overzealous, with my green Crayola marker and, suddenly, my yellow chair was green. Before I know it, my mom runs over to my table, takes the marker out of my hand and yells at me in front of the whole class. I, of course, cried my eyes out. Looking back, I'm sure she didn't broadcast my mistake in front of the classroom, but it sure felt like it.

The other memory hurt much, much more. We were talking about knights and Medieval times or something, and she asked if she could use my helmet, shield, body armor and sword for class the next day, and I was excited. But when she called for people to volunteer to don the equipment, I wasn't one of them. My own mother, whom I let clean up after me and make every meal I ate for five years, took my toys -- some of my favorite, mind you -- and give them to other people. It was terrible. I, of course, cried my eyes out.

I've never quite forgiven my mother. I still bring out the ammunition -- not the sword and shield -- at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Flag Day, whenever the family gathers. Sure, we laugh. But I die a little more every time I tell it.

 

I remember my first day of kindergarten (35 years ago). It was overcast. I can still picture the front of the school and not really knowing where I was supposed to go. I was talking to my mom about this the other day. I don't remember if I rode the bus or if my parents drove me on the first day.

Hope the first day went well for Miss OOP. I'm still close friends with 2 friends from kindergarten, so it's possible she's making life-long friends in that classroom.

 

And therein lies the problem I see with parents having to teach their own flesh and blood in a classroom setting.

Did you call her Mom or Mrs. [311gd] in class?

And I don't remember jack shit about kindergarten, but I've never forgotten my pre-school teacher. Isn't that weird?

 

it feels like it's a big deal because it is, dog.

god bless you for caring about your child so much. it would be a much better world if there were more parents such as yourself.

 

My mom was a substitute teacher at my elementary school, but her rule was that she was never a sub in my class, so I never had her as a teacher, even for a day. She became a full-time teacher there, but not 'til after I left.