second day

Having only two days of school under my belt, I can safely assert that I like the second day of school.  The first day is not all it's cracked up to be!

Obi-1 started pre-K this year.  For months, he's looked forward to this day.  I've had moments of excited anticipation, too, and less rational moments of dread.  One of the realistic reasons I've been a little anxious about school was the sheer discipline of doing the same routine every day.  I wasn't sure how this new schedule would affect our otherwise laid-back lifestyle at House o' Kenobi.   We tend to do a lot, but much of our "doing" is flexible.  I had reason to be concerned.

Monday, the first day of school, was also our weekly church staff meeting day.  Fortunately, my boys are welcome at our flexible gathering, and we get together at a home while they play soccer and color pictures.  Nonetheless, it's a lot to pack into a significant day.  I made a big pancake breakfast, followed by putting bike helmets on all and carting the bike trailer off to our meeting (blocks from school, by the way) at 9 AM.  

Biking, by the way, deserves mention all its own.  I am determined to bike to and from school as often as possible.  The school is close enough for a pleasant walk, although it would tire little legs.  My stroller(s) are on loan to parents who need them more than I do.  So, biking is a great way to do our little educational commute.  At least, that's what I tell myself as I lug 100 lbs of burley trailer & children along the street.  Seriously, I think I like the image of biking more than the reality.  This article aptly describes me, I'm afraid.

Okay, so at 11 AM, the boys & I left the meeting and bike back home.  I'd prepared a healthy tabouleh lunch with hummus and pitas, which they love.  At 11:50, we were back on the bike, determined to set the habit of arriving early, not just on time, for 12:15 school days.

Obi-1, for his part, practically skipped into class on that first day.  He hugged me an took off for the adventures.  I did not cry.  I didn't even flinch.  I watched other parents nervously hover & help their children adjust to the classroom, and I walked out the door with Obi-2 holding my hand.  We played at the park a bit while I talked to another mom, and then headed home for naptime.

Um, that is where my plan began to unravel.  Obi-2 did not nap.  He was too excited to go back and pick up his brother.  I did not nap, as child protective services frowns on mothers leaving 3-year-olds to their own devices.  No, in fact, all I could accomplish was a bit of ineffective pleading with my child, picking out a snack, and hopping back on the bike at 2:45 to go get his big brother.

This being my 5th ride of the day, I was definitely accepting the fact that my legs are out of shape, and I don't care if my boys don't weigh much, this trailer thing is heavy.  And hot.  I love the sun, but I'd rather be sitting by a pool.

Nonetheless, we got to the school and sauntered in to pick up (I imagined) a thrilled little Obi-1.  He wasn't.  He looked ready to break into tears.  I barely got him out of the building before he started explaining all the disappointments of public education.  The didn't paint.  None of his new friends wanted to read with him.  Come to mention it, they didn't learn to read at all today! They learned the letter "A," and he already knew that.  Worse, the principal didn't come to school.  Obi-1 was even beat up by a girl (evidently she clocked him on the eyelid with a block).  He did not like pre-kindergarten, and he didn't want to go back.

Good grief.  At least he wasn't upset about hand sanitizer, but my work was cut out for me.  We pedaled home, me brainstorming how to encourage my boy and him barely keeping his eyes open.  I was sure he would rest happily and perspective could be regained later.  So sure, in fact, that I was shocked & dismayed when both he & Obi-2 steadfastly refused to have any sort of "downtime" when we got home.  I served up snacks, and soon found myself trying to get out the door for violin lessons.  

Yes, violin lessons.  Because I'm just that insane - I hadn't rescheduled those for the first day of school, and dang it, if I've paid for them we're going.  Going to violin lessons, it turns out it exactly what it sounds like: going.  It doesn't imply that a child will play his violin.  Nor should we confuse going with responding to anything the teacher asks, no matter how reasonable.  We left violin lessons with me muttering something about "no more violin lessons, ever."

It was 5:30 PM.  There were pancake pans and tabouleh dishes still waiting my attention, and dinner was turning into a box of mac-n-cheese.  Mr. Kenobi took a look at me, heard a 30-second replay of the day, and insisted on taking us all out for a hamburger and microbrew.   They don't serve beer to minors, but I enjoyed mine immensely.

By bedtime, Mr. Kenobi & I had convinced Obi-1 that pre-kindergarten was more fun than he initially thought.  He had learned to draw fun block letters (the kind you could cut out of construction paper and use for bulletin boards) once his teacher saw he knew a "regular A."  He made friends - including the little girl who clobbered him.  He played on that cool playground equipment.  The principal, we assured him, was at school that day; he had simply not come into the pre-K classroom in the afternoon, but he might tomorrow.  While they didn't paint, they did lovely marker decorations on their book bags, and there was plenty of time for painting on another day.  Sure, not everyone was interested in reading in pre-K, but he could always enjoy books at home with us.  His wonderful teacher loves him. By bedtime, he was looking forward to going back to school.

The second day was much better, most importantly because we did not try to pack in too many commitments or too much bike riding.   This new routine will take some getting used to, and I'll probably have to plan our days a bit better.   Obi-1 loves learning & social opportunities, so I'm glad he gave school another chance.  I'm not sure I'll enjoy bike-commutes, but I'm learning from my boy: don't judge an adventure by its first day.