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When New Girl goes to the center each day, we call it “school.” When she runs to her teachers, we call them, well, her teachers. I’ve noticed that some people, friends, sisters-in-law, my mom, either roll their eyes thinking we’re inflating this experience, or laugh with a little “oh, how cute” to use those terms to describe what they think of as “day care” and “baby sitters.” But more and more every day, their brush off of New Girl’s teachers as somehow something less than a first-grade math teacher, or high school English teacher, or college professor, makes me angrier and angrier. In fact, these women are so much more.
I see the grace with which they teach these infants to learn. They teach babies to learn how to comfort themselves to sleep; they teach even the most stubborn 1-year-old to learn to use a cup; they teach them to learn to eat at the table, to figure out a new toy, to overcome frustration, to be proud of their accomplishments. They teach them that they can be loved unconditionally by people in addition to mommy and daddy. I want to say to the non-believers out there, “You try teaching someone who can’t talk, can’t walk, and can’t understand your language how to be a loving, gentle soul, and that the world is safe as long as you are there by his side. Teach someone who cannot hold a paintbrush how to make masterful works of art. Teach someone with no teeth how to enjoy the fruits of the earth. Teach someone who cannot support herself how to literally stand proud on her own. And then, teach them how to talk, walk, and understand your language. And do it all in just a few months.” New Girl’s teachers are the most miraculous people I know. They are amazing, wonderful teachers. And I haven’t even started on what they’ve taught me, but that’s a blog — or a tome — for another day.
It seems some clarity is needed. With the gift-buying (and for some, the gift-giving) season well underway, I’ve been thinking about which of my children’s myriad of caregivers should be on my list. And apparently I’m not the only one mulling this over, because yesterday three colleagues whose kids are in child care for the first time asked me what is appropriate. Primary teachers are obvious as are, in my opinion, others who spend significant time in the classroom. But what about the center director and assistant director? The program coordinator? And if you cast the net that wide, do you risk offending someone by leaving her out? And then there’s my kindergartener to consider. As the first time parent of a school-ager, I have no idea what’s expected. The classroom aide? The room mother? The lunch ladies? The bus driver? This list could get very long very quickly. The question isn’t only who, but also what? I have a relationship with my toddler’s caregivers. I see them at drop off and pick up, we communicate almost daily by telephone, and we write in a shared journal. I know a bit about them and have a sense of the kind of gift they might enjoy. That’s not the case with my kindergartner’s community. I don’t know what they’d like or how much to spend. Frankly, the whole thing is more than a bit overwhelming. So if you have any ideas, please let me know. I, and the teachers and lunch ladies and bus driver, thank you in advance.
Generally speaking, it’s my practice to give back when given to. If someone invites my family for dinner, I plan to host the next time. Bring me chicken soup when I’m under the weather? I’ll be there with flowers when you’re feeling blue. But now I find myself on the receiving end of a deal that’s feeling uncomfortably one sided. As a working mother, my children are used to fairly long days in child care or after-school programming. And, of course, one of the great things about my child care center is that it caters to working families, so except for national holidays, the center rarely closes. Not so with public school. In fact, my son’s school has announced that every Thursday for the next eight weeks (yes, eight weeks) will be an early release day. Enter my guardian angel neighbor. Lo and behold she has two kids in the same predicament and since she’s available to pick them up, why not let her pick up my son as well and have him come to their house for a play date for the next eight weeks. (Yes, eight weeks.) That works … it’s fabulous, in fact. But how in the world can I reciprocate? Does my profound gratitude and repeated thank-yous suffice? Should I offer to host her children at my house for eight Sunday afternoons, or is that over the top? If it’s “an eye for an eye,” doesn’t it stand to reason that it should be a play date for a play date?
They say “no news is good news,” but as far as my new kindergartener is concerned I don’t buy it. He’s now in the middle of his 3rd full week of school and I have yet to hear a peep from his teacher. My daughter, on the other hand, is in the toddler room at the child care center – she’s been there since she was an infant, and I still get a daily sheet that tells me (in great detail) about all of her bodily functions. My toddler’s teachers are gracious when I call them to check in on her day and full of details at pick-up. Since there’s no daily sheet to speak of in kindergarten and I pick my son up from an after-school program, I’ve had to rely on him to tell me about his day’s experience. Here’s what I’ve learned thus far: they have strawberry milk in kindergarten. This, apparently, is the most exciting – or at least memorable – part of his day. I’m not sure I can wait until parent-teacher conferences to find out how my son is doing in his new school. One of my friends suggests that I volunteer in the classroom to get a sense of what’s going on; another says I should e-mail the teacher weekly. HELP! How can I narrow this information gap?
Judging by the Back to School sales, promotions, and advertisements, it’s apparently time to start thinking about the first day of school. For my family, that means kindergarten. And with the start of a new school comes high anxiety, sleepless nights, and nervous sweats…and that’s just me. My son is fine with the proposition of starting kindergarten. For him it means one thing and one thing only: he gets to ride the school bus. I on the other hand, am consumed with thoughts about whether he’ll make friends, how he’ll do without his daily nap, and yes, the SCHOOL BUS. I never rode a school bus myself so most of my ideas about what it’s like come from the movies, which paint a pretty scary picture. I’m also more than a little consumed with the new logistical nightmare we’re headed toward. Two different drop-offs in two different locations, not to mention a variety of after-school arrangements. And how in the world do they get away with defining “full day” as 9-3? I’m used to dropping off my kids at 7:30! Do any of you have advice about dealing with the kindergarten transition? Help!
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