Meet the teacher

People keep asking me how I am or if I am going to cry.
And few weeks ago, I kept saying no.
I mean, I am used to dropping Owen off everyday at school. Or I’m at least used to Shaun dropping him off.
I am used to school. I do it everyday.
But. The first day is Monday.
His and mine.
And I am not ready. And I don’t just mean that my syllabus isn’t copied and that there are boxes all over my room.
That would be true.
But I am having doubts about my kid entering this world. The kind with lockers and buliten boards and hall passes.
And tests.
A world where from now on, he will be receiving a grade.
Where he will be compared, judged, scolded, and ranked.

We met his teacher the other night. Turns out I taught her son not too many years ago.
Owen was off playing within seconds with a friend from his soccer team. Tearing the room apart.
Ecstatic when he saw a big tub of legos. He will be just fine.
But I wasn't so sure about me.

I was suddenly filled with questions.
The basic ones. Like how do I put money on his lunch ticket. Where am I supposed to buy that notebook they want that I can’t find at Walmart, Target or Staples? What time do they dismiss? Where does he go in the mornings? Do they have any school shirts in anything smaller than a small?
And then.
What if his teacher is mean? What if he never learns to listen and is always in trouble?
What if he never remembers the number fourteen and never learns to count to twenty properly?
Does his teacher know that he is left handed and sometimes needs his inhaler?
What if he can’t put the straw in his Capri sun or zip his zipper by himself?
Will someone tell him where to go afterschool?
What if kids make fun of him for being little?
What if he punches those kids for making fun of him?
What if he learns more bad words?
What if he teaches his classmates the ones he already knows?
Can he reach the water fountain?
Maybe I should have taught him to read instead of watching all those cartoons.
Or at least taught him how to tie his shoes and not given up and bought the velcro ones.
What happens if Shaun forgets the crazy dress code and Owen goes to school with plaid shorts instead of solid ones?
What if he starts singing Brass Monkey in music class?

mostly it boils down to this....
What if his teacher doesn’t love him and think he is the brightest and cutest and funniest little boy she has ever met.
Because I do.


Robin said...

You sum up this feeling so well. Hang in there.

thethomfamlee said...

Makes me cry!

Margie said...

You've given me more angst than I had up to this point. We've met the teacher, seen the cafeteria. It was strongly suggested I send her lunch for the first week.

But, no. I'm not ready. Neither one of us knows what to expect. I'm hoping only for the best.

Kate said...

My head is filled with questions, but the biggest, most important ones I can't ask. Like, will you appreciate my baby for all that she is? Will you see her? No, I mean really see her?
And I am sure I will cry. Hopefully after drop off so she doesn't see it. i'm playing nonchalant. I'm not sure its working.
Good luck on Monday!

Hyacynth said...

Um, yes. Exactly this ... even though my little guy wants to go to preschool ... what if his teacher doesn't get him like I do?
I hope tomorrow goes so very well. And I hope she gets him.

Ann Kroeker said...

Thank you for revealing your mom-teacher's heart.

There's a famous quote about motherhood, that to become a mother is "to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

The start of school, especially for the earliest years, represents open-heart surgery for moms everywhere!

KatieKate said...

I really, really get this. My fear in sending Rylie... the thing that chokes me... is not "will she make it in a class full of 'normal' kids or what if her teacher doesn't understand her word for potty or what if Ry decks the boy next to her...

but will this teacher love her like I do? Will she make her feel safe and excited and responsible and wonderful?

I hope so. I am hoping, like Margie said, for the best.