PREschool, PRE-K, PRE Bachelor's Degree....

The educational future of our firstborn is secure...she is officially enrolled in preschool for the Fall!A huge weight has been lifted off my neverending worrisome shoulders. A friend tipped me off a few years ago that many area preschools begin enrolling in Jan/Feb prior to the next school year. I was extremely proud of myself for not only tucking this little tidbit of information away, but for also being able to retrieve it at the right moment.

David e-mailed our first choice of preschools a few weeks ago just in time to get a reply saying an informational parents meeting/tour was the next day! Whew, what a coincidence. So, I headed off on my merry way, complete with a notebook portfolio tucked under my arm to give the illusion that I was an organized, well-prepared mom. (I purposefully left David and the kids at home so I could sit quietly and nod my head accordingly at all the important information I was about to receive on my child's education and enrichment, rather than breaking up fights between the girls and dodging Tate's grasp as he gleefully grabbed fistfuls of my hair whilst squealing in delight.)

The director of the program showed slides of happy, well-rounded, cherubic children engaged in various sensory activities to develop their little minds. I easily began to picture little Reese up there sorting shapes, finger painting, and working pre-algebra equations. The director then opened it up for questions from the floor. She had covered all the pertinent who, what, when, where's, and why's of preschool so I began gathering up my things, convinced there couldn't be too many questions.

Hand after hand went up with moms and dads shooting out questions/concerns left and right. What are some of your discipline tactics? How are restroom breaks handled? How often are muscial activities incorporated into the weekly itinerary? Expand upon the various group activities that will take place each day. What in the world? I was starting to feel left behind. I couldn't think of one single intelligent question to ask. I wracked my brain. What was wrong with me? Obviously, I hadn't thought through this whole ordeal and wasn't in tune with what my child would be encountering in the outside world. I began scoping out the nearest exit so I could bolt outta there, jump in my van, and homeschool my little angel.

Then it hit me. I wasn't a bad mom for not coming equipped with a slew of questions to drill the preschool director with. I began to read between the lines of the other parents' questions:

What are some of your discipline tactics...could be translated...Little Johnny is a handful at home, how will you handle his disruptive behavior here without damaging his little psyche and self-esteem?

How are restroom breaks handled...could be restated...Even though Sally is 4 years old, she isn't adequately potty trained and oftentimes pees her pants when engaged in other activities.

How often are musical activities incorporated into the weekly itinerary...might actually mean... Felix isn't too bright and may become easily discouraged when all the other kids can recite their abc's but he sure likes to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider.

I began to breathe a little easier. Reese is an easy child. Sure, she does her share of pouting, disobeying, and establishing her independence at home, but all her teachers at church dote on her and says she is just the sweetest, most well-behaved lil' thing. And my mom, who's a retired teacher, already has been working with her on preschool activities such as writing her name, learning her numbers, sorting, patterns, etc. so she has a little bit of a jumpstart that way.

So maybe the reason I wasn't able to come up with any questions to ask was because I'm just a relaxed, go-with-the-flow kinda mom, who trusts that an accredited church run preschool program would be a safe environment for Reese to go and foster some of her social skills in a classroom of her peers while creating playdough shapes with cookie cutters. And I felt confident that she would be able to respect the authority of her teachers enough not to need to be sent to "the special place" set aside for hyperactive children to get a grip.

To make a long post a little shorter, the parents informational night ended with me finding out that the pre-k class I wanted to enroll Reese in was full and had a rather lengthy waiting list! Not to be defeated, I contacted our second choice only to discover that they, too, were full and already had a waiting list! It was then that I started to panic. We had been talking with Reese about attending preschool next year and gotten her excited about it, only come to find out, she might not get in anywhere because, evidently, we should have begun the whole enrollment process prior to her conception.

Thankfully, a lady in my Sunday School class recommended the preschool she used and we swung by last week to draw out our lottery number for enrollment, then held our breath to see if she got in or not. I ventured out to get the mail on Saturday and with shaking fingers opened the thin envelope from the preschool. SHE GOT IN! I was elated! I felt as though I had just opened her acceptance letter to Harvard! And I am already in love with the place. It is also at a nearby church, but inside, it is bright and sunny and the hallway looks like something out of a real school!!

I ran inside the house waving her acceptance letter and excitedly sharing the news with David, "Our baby's going to PRESCHOOL!!". However, my excitement quickly abated as I realized what had just come out of my mouth and I became instantly sad as I repeated with a different word emphasis, "Our BABY's going to preschool.....".