School Days

Today was the second time I volunteered in the classroom. I was a little apprehensive after the last time, but I was "snack parent" and I didn't have tremendous faith in Dano to get the execution and presentation down. Yes, I'm aware that they are a pack of 3 and 4 year olds, but they really are brilliant little people with excellent tastes and clever opinions all their own.

Lilah and I made stop-and-go fruit pops. On tongue depressors (popsicle sticks were wretchedly skinny and splintery) we placed a kiwi, pineapple, and strawberry to look like a stoplight. In a muffin tin, we arranged wonton wrappers sprayed lightly with cooking spray and sprinkled with cinnamon. For snack time, we filled the wontons with vanilla yogurt to dip the fruit pops in. Lilah must have eaten 4 of them while we were assembling the night before.

While the little ones played before class, I helped set up the classroom. During circle time, they picked one of Lilah's favorite friends to be the "magic apple" of the day. The water table was open for the first time in Lilah's school career and the magic apple gets to choose what color to dye the water. It was pink. I stationed myself near the water table, foreseeing the need for some adult presence at a table filled with pink water in a room with 12 preschoolers. I ended up as wet and pink as the table. The children had to roll sleeves and smock up to play there. Most of my time was spent assisting them in and out of smocks, negotiating small peace treaties ("When he's done with his turn with the shark, he'll be happy to give it to you. Here. Catch some frogs in this net in the meantime."), and repeatedly issuing the gentle reminder, "The water needs to stay inside the table."

I looked out over the classroom and saw a table filled with 6 little girls in princess gowns and pearls all making play-dough snowmen and unicorns. At another table, Mrs Fuller was playing matching games and puzzles with a few children. One or two played at the sand table. One little one was carefully and thoughtfully  applying blue paint to her paper with slow, broad strokes. They were all such darlings and I was so happy they were Lilah's friends.

During story time, we set up snack. Several people remarked how amazing snack looked. It didn't feel amazing. I was proud of it being healthy and fun, but it was hardly amazing but I nodded and smiled my thanks anyway. Mrs Fuller asked who had brought snack after everyone was settled into their snack spots and had sung their snack song. No one saw Lilah discreetly point to me. I spoke up that it was Lilah Rose's snack day. She looked aghast. "No! My mother made these!" I assured everyone that she had helped assemble. Most people remarked that it looked time consuming. They don't know Lilah in the kitchen. She is my assistant in every way - gathering and putting away ingredients, taste-testing, mixing, beating, kneading, assembling, using the whisk or pastry brush as directed. Tonight after sampling the seared chicken, she proclaimed, "It's so tender, Mother! I really like it." She's developing quite the palate. Some of the children asked for seconds or thirds. One set of twins in particular were the last to leave the table and licked their fingers at the end. Another set of twins picked and poked and didn't act like they really liked it but never complained. The adults, Lilah, and I happily chomped on our wonton cups after they were empty. Some of the children where wide-eyed and shocked, like we were eating actual bowls. I laughed at the gasp of the girl next to me and poked her playfully.
"It tastes like a cracker or a cookie. Try it." She did, then turned to the child next to her.
"It's like a cracker or a cookie." And so on. Soon the entire table was munching on wonton cups. While the adults cleaned up, the teachers handed each child a stick with ribbons attached. They listened (of course) to the song Car Wash while forming two lines and twirling their ribbons while each child took turns going through the "car wash". All I heard were giggles and swishy ribbons.

Being cold out, the gross motor time took place in the "Big Room" with trikes, cozy coupes with gas stations, balls, and seesaws. One of Lilah's friends, a sweet, beautiful little boy who seems to like me as much as I like him (he's always tugging on my sleeve saying "Excuse me!" to get me to play with him) asked me to play hide-and-seek with him. We played a round and were joined one by one by a handful of other classmates. A few minutes later he and I were counting together as the entire class hid out of sight in fits of giggles. Mrs Fuller returned to the room after leaving for a moment and was greeted by dead-silence (save for the giggling) and not a child in sight. She looked around.
"It's so quiet!" Mrs Wilson, the assistant teacher nodded gravely and pointed to an upside-down laundry bin that was haltingly scooting of its own accord across the gym floor, and to a potted tree that was swaying gently despite the absolute lack of breeze in the room, then to us "counters". Mrs Fuller nodded knowingly.

Lilah was brilliantly good compared to the last time I was in class with her, and I did noticed the children of some of the other working parents struggle with having them there while still maintaining the class routine. Not that I want any child to struggle, but at least is shows Lilah isn't abnormal or behind. I have her at home saying things like, "Yes ma'am, I'll be with you in a moment," or "I'm not quite done yet but I'm nearly finished, Mother." She's been raised on the BBC and I can recall Dano snuggling 4 month old Lilah while reading Tolkien and L'Engle aloud to her. We've never pulled punches with grammar or more mature literatre and as a result she turns phrases better than some adults I know. She adjusts gracefully and usually flawlessly to any social situation, somehow innately knowing when to sit quietly, ankles crossed like a little Victorian lady and when to get up and play. I'm continually impressed with how observant she is. I do worry that because she can't recite the alphabet or count past 20 or recognize all her colors and letters and numbers from memory that she will be behind. They're so separate to her. She'll yawn and sigh through flashcards with us, but she'll pick up social intricacies with ease. This school subtly weaves learning with play and social interaction, so she has honestly picked up more since arriving at Drayton Avenue than through years of flashcards with us. I believe it's because seeing it in practice makes all the difference to her. I took years of all manner of math class and always despised it. But when I studied Drug Calculations in nursing school, math suddenly had real purpose. I still recall how to calculate tablespoons to teaspoons to milliliters to ounces in my head because it applied to cooking as well as medication administration. Lilah Rose seems to be made of the same stuff. Flashcards bore her and she does it to please us. The things she learns in class seem to have a purpose and a practical application to her life so she picks it up in an instant.

In a society that prides itself in Mandarin tutors for toddlers, there is such an emphasis on the academic from daycare to high school. The poor are associated with unintelligence, so if your child is well set-up educationally, it bespeaks of financial success and security. I have to catch myself holding my lovely little daughter up to that standard. It's unfair and a nasty set up for insecurity and perfectionism later on. I have to tell myself, sometimes daily or many times a day, that she is coming along brilliantly and it's much more important to have a child who will run to me when I come in the door at the end of the day and say, "Mummy! I missed you! How was your day?"