Kindergarten, Day One

When I was in either first or second grade, the teachers sent all of their students home with a little blue pamphlet.  On the front cover was a set of stairs, each one marked with a number 1-12.  I'm sure it was titled something like, "Stair Steps to Success!" or some other inane thing.   I remember, so clearly, looking at those stairs and knowing that I was going to be in school for-ever.  Each year seemed to last an eternity and I had a whole set of stairs to climb between now and 12th grade.

And here's what a change in perspective can do for you.  Today, you walked into that kindergarten room for the first time and I felt with a force equal to that of my love for you, that in a blink of an eye you would be all the way up those stairs and flying the coop.

There were no tears today, at least not as we said goodbye to one another at the door of Ms. Clayton's room (I'll admit that I did get a little choked up at the parent's coffee right after drop-off), but the emotions ran deep right under the surface.  You showed so much bravery and gumption that I couldn't help but believe that everything was going to be just fine.

In fact, the first thing you said to me this morning as you dove into my bed was, "Happy first day of day school!"  Realizing you had said something not-quite-right you then said, "I just like calling it that, it makes me feel better."  It was like bridging the gap between Silver Spring Day School, your preschool, and kindergarten could be made just as easily as changing a few words around.  Then you came downstairs and ordered an egg for breakfast, something we've been discussing recently is the need for a decent breakfast before school, which you ate without a lot of fuss.



I don't expect that every day will go so smoothly.  In fact, I'm rather bracing myself for a firestorm tomorrow.  You told me tonight that you planned to stay home with me tomorrow and then got pretty teary eyed when I explained that you would have to go to school.  When you crawled into bed, you took with you the little note that I had tucked away in your lunch bag and with tears (which I think just might have been real) you told me that it would really make you feel good tomorrow if I would draw a picture of the two of us together.  I'm no artist but I will make you a masterpiece tomorrow morning and I hope you will look at it and school and know just how much I love you.  I hope I've prepared you well for your walk up the "stair steps" but I do hope you take it nice and slow from here.