What I learned in kindergarten this year

Kindergarten, photo courtesy Lucelia Ribeiro, Flickr.

The tears started when I began to compose a thank you letter to my son’s teacher. Trying to put down on paper all of the amazing things he had learned in kindergarten — about the “bossy E,” who was simply silent when I went to school; about raising your hand to get attention, rather than shouting or pulling on shirtsleeves; about using sign language when you need to go to the bathroom; about taking turns and waiting patiently; that gray wolves mate for life and that little acorns grow into great big oaks — proved an impossible task. I just kept smearing the ink with my big, sloppy, sentimental mommy tears.

Kindergarten is such a big year in so many ways. Sure, we felt the influence of the outside world in preschool, like when Koss thought it was odd that his father and I didn’t have tattoos, like all of his 20-something teachers. Or when he picked up phrases like, “Let’s skedaddle,” or “Excuse me, sir,” that he would never have heard at home.

But kindergarten was different. Even I could remember kindergarten, which meant so would Koss, and any mistakes that we made here would go on his, gasp … permanent record! There were goals, standards, expectations, even report cards.

At Back to School Night, when Ms. Geritz told us that every one of the students would be reading by the end of the year, I just about fell out of my teeny, tiny, fake wood chair. They were just babies, many of them clinging to mom and dad for a few precious moments before running off onto the playground, with some stray glances back for reassurance.

Every milestone Koss encounters feels like a mixed blessing, as I give another bit of him away to the universe. As much as I want him to be independent, I dread it too.

Someone recently asked me when I most rejoiced, when he got out of diapers or when he could strap himself into a car seat, which he will soon strap himself out of permanently when he turns 6 next month. Koss can hardly wait. He’ll probably wake up at midnight to throw it out of the car.

As for me, well sure, ditching the diapers did inspire a little happy dance, but even the most celebratory milestones make me feel a little sad. Call me crazy, but I missed those 2 a.m. cuddles when he began sleeping through the night.

In kindergarten, each child greeted Ms. Geritz with a hug. That’s what I’ll probably miss the most. For the simple sweetness and also for the deeper symbolism. These children adore their teacher. For right now she is school to them. I wish I could bottle that love of learning, that openness to all of life’s possibilities and put it in a time capsule to bequeath to them when they’re 13 or 11 or 9 or whenever that seemingly unavoidable teenage ‘tude starts.

I’m a little bit comforted when I see Ms. Geritz’s past students — 1st and 2nd graders and even some 6th graders — stop by and give her hugs. She’s a part of them now and she always will be.

I’ll never forget the dejected look on Koss’s face when I explained to him that not only would he have a different teacher for first grade, but that there would be some different students too. He really liked his classmates. So did I. While neither one of us found a new best friend, we did meet a lot of nice people and I know that most of them will remain in our lives for a very long time.

But we’ll never be in kindergarten again and I can’t help but wish I had spent a little more time volunteering in the classroom. Maybe baked a cookie or two, instead of always buying them. Maybe re-learn how to bake, so that I could actually mean it when I say that. Although, I know that I would still feel guilty even if I had never missed a volunteer opportunity and had been a Martha Stewart lunatic about making perfect goodies for every event.

Koss would rather have Oreos anyway, I reminded myself, as I un-packaged the cookies after the end-of-the-year play.

Whether it was their first child to enter kindergarten or their last, all of the parents marveled that their babies had finally reached this stage, reading well enough to memorize lines and stand poised in front of the audience waiting their turn to perform.

For the finale, when the children signed and sang along to Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World,” there wasn’t a dry eye in house.

Then Ms. Geritz gave them each a memory book with a poem that said they would take a piece of them with her wherever they went.

Sorry if my big, sloppy, sentimental mommy tears smudged your paper. I’m sure I’ll get over it by the fall.

Originally published in South Coast Beacon on June 23, 2005.