Kindergarten

Every night, when I tuck Jacob into bed, he asks me two questions. First he says, “Is tonight going to be short?” I think that is some kind of reference to not wanting to be asleep very long and miss out on anything. The second thing he asks is, “Is tomorrow a school day?” Since I stopped working, I have only taken him to Harbor House on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It’s been a nice break for him, a way for us to spend a little more time together, and a bit of a money saver for me. He loves going to Harbor House and seeing his friends. They do great activities with the kids and I think that it’s probably better for him to sometimes spend the day with them, where he can be more engaged, than to sit around with me while I clean and take care of the baby. Nonetheless, he loves staying home too. He always laughs when I answer that tomorrow is a “stay home day,” and truth be told, it makes me feel good to know that he is that excited about spending the day with me. I know that the time when he not only enjoys being with me, but also seeks it out, is limited so I try to take advantage of that while I can.

Last night the bed-time routine was no different. He asked his questions, and I answered. I also added that today (Friday 8/22/08) is the last day of summer camp and that on Monday he will officially be a Kindergartner. I thought this would excite him, that he would be enticed by the prospect of officially being in school and getting older. After all, isn’t growing older our main goal as children, followed by the desire to reverse aging once we finally reach adulthood? Plus, he is going to Harbor House for Kindergarten, the same place where attended preschool for the last two years. It’s not going to be a very big change for him, and I didn’t expect any real transition anxieties. But as usual, what we expect and what we get are often different, and it looks like that may be the case with Kindergarten. Instead being excited, Jacob was sad.

I asked him why he didn’t want to go to Kindergarten and surprisingly, I got a very concrete answer from him. He said, “because I will have to be at school at a certain time every day. There will be no more stay at home days, and there won’t be much play time anymore.” Well, yes. While exaggerated somewhat, all of that is true. For the next 9 months, we will need to get moving in the morning instead of lounging around and heading in whenever we feel like it. He will need to go to school every day, unless it’s a holiday or he’s sick. I understand that part of him thinks that he is missing something when I’m at home with the baby, and he is away. I know, even as an adult, if people are doing something without me, I can at times feel excluded, with or without good reason. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about the fact that he needs to go to school. And, although playtime is far from over, he will need to start working more now than he did in preschool. Of course, I played Kindergarten up for him. He will have Labor day off one week after school starts, and don’t forget about Columbus day, two days off for Thanksgiving and a whole week off over Christmas and there are lots of other holidays between now and June too! I told him he will be doing all kinds of fun things to learn that will feel like playing, but with a lesson - like science experiments, and music class and physical education. Most importantly, he will be officially a big kid now. Just think of the things he will learn, that he can come home and teach his little brother! Likewise, Andrew will be so jealous to see Jacob going away to be with other kids to have fun all day while he has to stay at home with boring old mom. He was appeased by these answers, thankfully, but as I thought about what he was going through, I felt a little unsettled and even a bit depressed for him, not to mention myself.

Kindergarten. Let’s face it, it’s not a big deal. It’s hardly work, and I think many of us look back nostalgically on those days, willing to return to it in a heartbeat, if it were only possible. What does it really mean to us? Crayons, nap mats, mom-packed lunches, show and tell, monkey bars…Yes, kindergarten embodies all of those feel good memories of childhood. However, as my first born enters into it, it doesn’t necessarily evoke elation in me, but rather something more bittersweet. Kindergarten marks the beginning of at least 13 years of schooling (and if he knows what’s good for him, he will also attend college). Starting Monday, he will only be able to sleep until he pleases during breaks from school. He will begin to bring work home, hence the term “homework,” and he will need to, in many ways, truly being his journey to adulthood.

I know it is a bit over the top to say that Kindergarten is the beginning of the end - that Jacob needs to stop his childish ways and grow up. I know he is only 5, he is still just a kid, and he still has lots of carefree time ahead of him before becoming a responsible adult and abandoning his youth. I also doubt that this over-analyzation has even remotely crossed Jacob’s mind. It is yet another example of the endless chatter inside my head, that voice which scrutinizes anything and everything. Sometimes I try to shut the voice off. It often has nothing good to say. But sometimes I listen, if just for a moment. Right now, I know that while we are celebrating the milestone of kindergarten, I also mourn my own loss of sorts - the rapid passing of 5 years, the evolution of Jacob from a helpless infant to a school age child, and the knowledge that his rate of growth will not slow down, but will probably seem faster as the years progress. Today my inner voice told me to be a little kinder to Jake this weekend. To really listen to him when he speaks, to memorize the sweetness of his face, and to take some time to reflect on Jacob and the amazing growth that has occurred over the last five years, not so much for his sake, but more for mine - to imprint a piece of his childhood in my heart.

Again, I hear that saying, “They days are long, but the years are short.” Yes, they are short. I can’t believe that five whole years have disappeared before my eyes. It may be cliché, but it truly feels like yesterday when I was carrying Jacob around as an infant, wondering what kind of person he would become. Now, instead of guessing, I can fully see his personality, and although I can’t completely foretell what kind of person he will become, I can better see his emerging individual with each passing day. Our futures remain wide open. There is plenty of time between now and when my children enter adulthood for a myriad of experiences, both pleasurable and trying, to take us down an unforeseen labyrinth of life lessons, but if there is one thing that I am sure of it is this: that in 13 years, when I am watching Jacob walk across the stage for his high school diploma, I will be experiencing many of the same emotions I have right now, with the addition of a few more, thinking the same thing - that the years are so, so short.