First Day of Preschool, Take Two!

So, Cardinal Maida did NOT work out as planned for poor Brady. I didn't want to bad mouth the place on my public blog, but I've no problem sharing the specific reasons for pulling Brady here:

1. The aid to whom we were introduced never returned to work with the kids. As a result, random adults were asked to "volunteer" their time in the classroom. These random people don't have clearances, certifications, or all of their brain cells for all I know! The kicker was that we were NEVER told about this; I found out through word-of-mouth. Unacceptable.

2. In addition to there being a different adult with the kids each day, I came to find that there is no such thing as a three-year-old program. I'm still not sure if this has anything to do with a federal grant that offers mucho dinero for combining certain age groups (are Catholic schools even eligible for such a thing?), or if the school is just severely understaffed. At any rate, two, three, four, and sometimes five-year-olds were all clumped together in one room at different parts throughout class. Turns out, Brady's classroom was basically a dumping ground for kids who were waiting to go to the restroom, to art class, etc. It was complete chaos all day, every day. Unacceptable.

3. No one ever, EVER told me what the hell my kid was learning. I never got a calendar, newsletter, crayon drawing--NOTHING. I went to preschool and I am a teacher, so I have high expectations here! And CM was not meeting them. In the few weeks Brady was there, he brought home a little sign that said his first day of school was GREAT (that I'm sure was made ahead of time because his first day was anything but!), and a little goodnight prayer on a card. Unacceptable.

4. It was no secret Brady was having a difficult time with the transition. In fact, his reaction to going to school got worse instead of better. He was waking in the middle of the night screaming, "I DON'T WANT TO GO!" and it got to the point that he was begging not to get out of the car as we drove to school. Knowing this, you would think the teacher would go out of her way to make him feel welcome or at least give me some reassurance. I got nothing. What's possibly worse is that people who know our family were stopping Zach's mom at the grocery store to tell her how sad Brady is at school and how "clingy" he is. Those are not descriptions I would ever use to describe my child. The school was changing him, and not for the better. Unacceptable.

5. Re-read #4 and tell me how you would react if, on the fourth day of class, your child's teacher welcomed him by the wrong name. I had to peal my poor kid off of my leg and as I did, I heard his teacher say, "Hi, Brody." Now, I know I should be patient and understanding about learning students' names; after all, I was in the same boat just a few years ago. But the fact that there were only to be 8 kids in "Brody's" class, and the fact the teacher had spent almost 12 hours with them, made this, you guessed it, unacceptable.

In addition to all of the aforementioned, I had a feeling deep in my gut that he wasn't in the right place. And I was right.

Enter: Kiddie's Korner.

On Friday at 3pm, I contacted KK's director; on Monday at 9am, Brady and I toured the place; on Tuesday at 12:30, I dropped Brady, who was all smiles, off at his new school. It felt right and, as I imagined, he loves it. He actually said, "I'm going to make one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight new friends!" Eight is the number of kids in his class and unlike CM, Kiddie's Korner didn't lie.

I actually went to preschool at KK and absolutely loved it. To this day, I still remember my teacher and sitting on a special carpet for story time, singing and acting out The Farmer in the Dell. The only reason I didn't consider KK for Brady is because he isn't potty-trained and that's a requirement for the three-year-old program. He is, however, "diaper trained," so I figured that, coupled with my disdain for Cardinal Maida, was enough reason to at least try. I was honest with his teacher, who is also the director, and told her that he won't participate in the potty breaks, but I assured her she would never have to worry herself with a diaper change or an accident. I explained to Brady that if he wasn't using the toilet at school, he would have to wait until he got home. And that's exactly what he does.

To date, he's attended exactly two classes at Kiddie's Korner and I've received a monthly calendar that explains show-and-tell, 2 fundraising brochures, a craft he's made each day, and feedback directly from his teacher on Brady's behavior and progress. A parent who pulled her son from Cardinal Maida and sent him to Kiddie's Korner actually told me that Brady looks like a completely different kid now. She said he's relaxed and happy, and he didn't seem that way at CM. And that is just another reason I love Kiddie's Korner; they brought my Brody back to life!

First Day of Preschool!

I wrote this same post on my public blog, so apologies to those of you who have to read it twice. I just wanted to be sure I have it saved for the family here!

Part I: The Drop Off

Despite Zach and I telling Brady how much fun school is, he declared he didn’t want to go. So we called in the big guns: we recruited everyone within a 20-mile radius to talk up the pre-school experience. “You will LOVE it!” “It’s so much fun!” “You won’t believe how much you learn!” Finally, the kid was sold. He was looking forward to writing on a chalkboard (do those still exist?!) and making new friends. This morning, his first day, he was ready to roll! He inhaled breakfast, brushed his teeth, and posed for six million pictures in his adorable first day of school outfit. In short, everything was going swimmingly.

Side note: my new found obsession with Pinterest is changing my life. I'm cooking, organizing, and photographing like a pro. I LOVE PINTEREST.

The ride to school was filled with emotion. For me. Brady simply requested I turn up John Mellencamp’s “Paper and Fire” so he could rock out. Sure, buddy, have at it.

We had to wait in a line to get into the classroom (a great way to build anxiety in parents and patience in kids). Brady kept whispering, “I fink it’s our turn to go!” I held my breath as we crossed over the threshold…mostly because a parent in front of us had evidently forgotten to apply deodorant this morning. *DANG*

And there we were. The classroom is colorful and inviting. As the parents listen to the teacher explain procedural stuff, the kids play. Brady finds a few cars and makes himself at home zoom-zooming them around the floor. I fill out some paperwork and then it’s time for me to leave, to cut the cord, to entrust a stranger with my first-born. *SOB*

I announce to Brady that I’m leaving. He exclaims a little too enthusiastically, “Okay! Don’t forget your phone!” Dagger to the heart much?

I’m half happy he’s content, and half devastated that he doesn’t give a flying fart I’m leaving, and then they happen…

They, identical twin boys, start SCREAMING in unison. Like beyond sobbing. They are really freaking out. Fortunately (unfortunately?), my son is the world’s most sensitive 3-year-old, and when he sees the other boys in such anguish, that’s it. Brady’s little lip curls and tears well up in his eyes. I tell him not to be sad, holding in my own tears and what I presume is vomit creeping up in my throat. I ask if he wants to go over and make them feel better by introducing himself, and as soon as the suggestion is out of my mouth, one of the boys makes a break for the exit, and is
tackled hugged ever so gently by the classroom aid. At that point, I thought it best to keep our distance. Introductions could wait.

The bell for the pledge and prayer ring, and I tell Brady that means all Moms and Dads have to leave. (By the way, I am the only parent left, so I’m sure the teachers have dubbed me “That Mother.” Sigh.). His grip on my neck tightens and everything is starting to go black. I inform my little guy that if he doesn’t let go, Mommy will surely pass out. He obliges, and promptly takes hold of my leg. His teacher sees that I am having some difficulty, and comes to lend a hand. Actually, she lends her whole body; she wedged herself in between me and the kid, and attempted to distract him with a monkey. A monkey. I’m thinking is that the best you’ve got?! Brady is evidently thinking the same. He screams, I die a little inside and move toward the door. It was now or never. Even if it meant hearing his wails as I ugly cry the whole way to the car–which it did–I had to go.

I felt like the world’s worst mother, even though I knew I wasn’t. The twins’ mom is obviously the worst.

Part II: The Pick Up

The teacher escorts the kids outside, and Brady runs into my arms. I can’t help myself; I cry a little, but I don’t let him see for fear of another meltdown.

Me: Did you love school?!

Brady: I ate peanut butter crackers.

Me: What else did you do?

Brady: I want to go home and poop now.

That was the extent of our post-school conversation. Thank God I have a daughter, too, because if this me-no-talk-me-just-eat-and-poop boy trend continues, I will be forced to become a classroom volunteer and spy on my kid.

Gramma Weeze and Ella were waiting for us when we got home; they had made Brady a special sign and had lunch waiting. It was a great welcome-home; I just hope the kid doesn't expect such fanfare every day!