The pre-school teachers are having a bit of a time figuring Jake out. His vocabulary isn’t that high, so they can’t just ask him what the heck is going on. And his interest in performing on assessments and such? Not so high either. So at this point they don’t really know if he’s understanding when they teach a lesson. If he’ll remember what they say. If he even cares that they are speaking.
Me? I’m thrilled. He talked about his teacher by name the very first day. One would only know this is huge if they know that he still refers to all grandparents as GrandPA unless you correct him with the M for the females. He told me today that his toy hammer is yellow. And the plastic saddle on his zebra is red. He introduces us to each other, “Papa, this is my friend, Mama.” (I don’t even know if that’s one of the lessons.) And when Michael came home today, he said, “Papa! Criss-cross applesauce!” And then proceeded to sit cross-legged, an accomplishment he still refused to try on the second day of pre-school.
I didn’t even know if Jake would want to go to school after the first few days. I didn’t know if they would be able to pry his cold, dead fingers from the plastic bugs and spiders for circle time. I didn’t think he would sit at the tables for breakfast without crying for me. I didn’t know if he would ever recover the time that he ran to me when I came to pick him up and they made him sit back down until his name was called.
I had no idea.
So today when he attempted to read a book to his friend Zoe, and when he asked yet again to go to school tomorrow and when he answered my question about where he got his very cool Spiderman sticker by telling me a story about his other teacher, Mrs. Bradley, I knew for certain – this was a good move. And with every new word in his vocabulary, he is thanking me. And he has no idea that I am the one who is grateful.