A Decision about Preschool … and then some

I've been grappling with a decision about Lucas and preschool. Even though he attends a fabulous Reggio-Emilia school, I've been ambivalent about the whole idea since before the school year even started. He's been there since September, and this ambivalence has come and gone, come and gone. I still love his school, don't get me wrong. The problem has more to do with feeling over-scheduled and rushed, getting sick ALL THE TIME, and the realization that we're hopping in the car to go somewhere five-six mornings out of the week.

Prioritizing: Pilates or Preschool?

Granted, preschool is only two of those mornings. This is a matter of prioritizing. Two to three of those other mornings we are off to the YMCA for my beloved Pilates class. The thought of giving that up feels fat, lazy and isolating. We all know one another in this very social, supportive class, and the teacher is fabulous. Lucas is loved and appreciated by the wonderful gals who work in the Kids' Club there, plus he gets to play in the very nice playground after my class. So … Pilates stays. On Sunday mornings, we go to The Unity Center, where I work in the nursery. Again, this is a place where Lucas is adored by many and he walks around freely like he owns the place. He plays his guitar on stage with the band every week, and then heads off to the preschool class where he knows all the volunteers. This is our spiritual community, so it's also exempt from the chopping block. Unity stays.

If I didn't want rush to get in the car with Lucas every ding-dong day, then cutting preschool seemed like the only reasonable option. I considered what he was gaining from being at school, and weighed that against what he'd gain by having two more mornings a week to take it slowly, honor our home rhythms, and spend more time enjoying these precious early childhood months together. I started to feel like I needed to reclaim that time with him while I still had the opportunity to do it.

What about My Time?

What about my writing time? My me time? How would I cope without it? I had to admit that the decision to put him in preschool in the first place was mainly for that reason. It was for me, not him, and I began to feel selfish. Not that I don't think it's important to honor myself. I absolutely believe it's important to honor our own needs and do what we can to get those needs met so we can be happy, whole, and grounded. But there are ways of meeting those needs without sacrificing the time-sensitive needs of my son. He's not going to be three forever. This is a rather small window of opportunity in which I can provide this safe space for him to be a young child, unrushed and nurtured. So I decided to trust that I would find a new way to allocate my me time. I would resume writing at night. I would do a little work while he played independently. I would adjust my expectations to a slower progression toward my goals, and commit enjoying the pace.

The Decision

I had the chance to try it out when he got sick again (again!) last week. I pretended he was already out of preschool, and we slowed way down. He helped me with the breakfast dishes, even though it took five times longer. We worked in the yard together, played Candyland, folded laundry and swept the floors together. He played in his room with his imaginary friends while I did some work in the office. Our week was peaceful and happy, and the house ended up really clean! I thought, "This is it! This feels right! I'm doing it. I'm taking him out of preschool!"

Tuesday was conference day at his school. My plan was to tell his teachers then that I would be taking him out of school at the end of the month. We arrived that morning after a week of missing school, and Lucas burst through the gate and eagerly ran out onto the play area outside his classroom. On the outdoor picnic tables were giant ink pads and chunky stamps with papers and pens. Against the wall was the sand table – today filled with cornmeal, a few large beans and sifters. (Sometimes it contained water, sometimes sand, sometimes shaving cream … it's always a surprise.) While I waited for my conference, I watched him gleefully go from stamping the heck out of a sheet of paper, to playing cars with a friend on a three-story car structure, to sifting beans and cornmeal, to riding a giant tricycle around the playground. When one of his teachers came to the door to call me in, he gave her a big hug, and then ran back off to play.

The Other Decision

I sat inside at the tiny table and didn't tell his teachers a thing.

In those brief moments outside, I had changed my mind. The bottom line was that he loved being there. He was getting the routine and rhythm he needed on these two days a week in this beautiful, play-based, child-centered environment. This was yet another place where he could be himself and feel loved and nurtured, and you know, you can't have too many of those. Finally, my ambivalence about preschool was changing into acceptance and appreciation. It only took seven months!

Slowing Down Anyway

I had learned some valuable lessons over the past week about how we handle our time together at home and the effects on our relationship. With a little advanced planning (and enough sleep) I can slow our days down, even if we're still getting in the car five days a week. I can allow more time in the morning for snuggling, story or circle time, and washing dishes together before we head out. I can move through my tasks more deliberately and attentively, just like I'd been doing over the past week, setting a tone of peace and calm, rather than racing through everything to fit in one more chore. I can involve Lucas in as much as possible, so cooking, setting the table, and cleaning up are fun things we do together, instead of my jobs where I need him out of my hair. It's really just about moving through our days with a more grounded, calm, intentional energy.

My Childhood ≠ Lucas' Childhood, So Watch Out, Lex!

As I dropped Lucas off at school this morning, another parent asked me if we'd like to have a family play date sometime. I thought it sounded fun. It sounded like community. It occurred to me that up until now, I had been holding our roots close to the surface, ready to transplant ourselves at a moment's notice, as was my lifetime habit. I hadn't gotten involved, hadn't helped in the class, hadn't reached out to other families. I felt like I was on the outside, looking in, and this was a VERY FAMILIAR place for me to stand. Suddenly I had a thought: Could this whole ambivalence have really been about my own nomadic childhood? Could I have been unconsciously preparing to set Lucas up for that very same cycle of unfinished school years and lost friendships? Wow! You see, I have no idea what it's like for a child to stay in one place, one community, for very long. On the surface, of course that stability is what I want for Lucas. But beneath, I was still running some very old, very buried tapes, and I was superimposing them on Lucas. Maybe this is what those memories of Lina were meant to bring up. It's yet another example of my own childhood baggage posing as current issues for Lucas. It takes real vigilance to catch this. I almost missed it.

I know I jammed a lot into this post: preschool and the purpose it serves our children; our children's needs for simplicity, routine and slowing down, and how we make that happen in our busy lives; and finally, how we unconsciously superimpose our own childhoods on our children, and how challenging it is to be aware of when we're doing it. I'm sure I'll expand on each one of these themes at different points in time, but today, they all wanted to share this one space together in this one story.

I'd love to hear your comments on any one or more of these themes! Have you struggled with the idea of preschool vs keeping your youngsters home? How do you maintain peace, serenity, and rhythm in your home, or is that still eluding you? Have you ever noticed when an issue turned out to be more about your past than about your child's present? How do you make certain you're keeping the two separate? I love hearing from you, wise readers! Thanks for the connection!

Cheers!

Alexis