“Let’s start school in a year or two. Clearly you’re not ready and you’re not coming back until you are. You think you can do these things, but you just can’t, Nemo!” said a puppeteer holding a cartoon fish. I immediately burst into tears. Heavy weeping wracked my body as I tried to stay quiet.
“Are you okay?” my husband leaned over and asked.
“Noooo,” I whispered between tears. I absolutely was not okay. Because that cartoon fish dad was me and I was him and we were both utterly unprepared for our kids to be starting school.
I did not expect to have a parenting epiphany at Animal Kingdom in Disney World, but there we were. (Although maybe I should have, considering I had one last time we were at Disney World.)
We were watching a musical performance of Finding Nemo, a stage adaptation of the same movie. For those not familiar with the story, Finding Nemo is about a father (Marlin) and his son (Nemo), both clownfish. On the first day of school, Marlin is terrified to let his child go, especially because he has a short fin. Determined to prove his dad wrong, Nemo swims into the open ocean and a diver catches him. They spend the rest of the movie trying to reunite.
Like Marlin, I too faced the dilemma of whether or not to send my child to “big kid school.” For us, it would be full-day public kindergarten, a far cry from the half-day, play-based cooperative preschool he goes to now. It’s not the open ocean, but it might as well be. While I didn’t expect him to get kidnapped by a diver, I had my own set of Mama worries.
On one hand, his birthday is relatively late and he often has the maturity to match. Making friends can be a struggle and he often plays by himself rather than trying to engage other kids. He has some speech and language issues. Even for a four-year-old, his attention wanders like nobody’s business. Would kindergarten just be discouraging and frustrating?
On the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to get speech and language services from the county without going to kindergarten. In addition, he’d just be doing the same preschool curriculum that he already knows well. The week after he missed school (because we were on vacation), he was the only kid in his class who could define a habitat. Would another year of preschool bore him without much opportunity for additional development?
Among the many substantial factors we considered, two surprising voices stood out: my son’s own voice and that of Crush, a cartoon turtle.
While my son initially seemed ambivalent, he’s taken more and more to the idea of attending kindergarten next year. He’s chatted away about being in school all day and riding the bus. While he’s sad that my husband won’t be helping in the classroom, he seems to have accepted that as just part of growing up. In fact, he seems legitimately excited.
The other voice showed up later in the Finding Nemo show. That voice belonged to a 150-year-old sea turtle named Crush, a laid-back California surfer-type. Unlike anxious Marlin, he’s willing to go with the flow, especially when it comes to his kids. In response to Marlin asking when you know that kids are ready, Crush says, “Well, you never really know. But when they’ll know, you’ll know, you know?” As that cartoon turtle talked to that cartoon fish, it felt like he was talking to me. Even as my anxious brain wanted to push them away, the words rang true in my heart.
The next week, my husband and I made the final decision – we decided to send my son to kindergarten in the fall. A meeting with some of the school’s teachers helped, as did getting some more concrete details. But it was that voice inside urging me to trust that I found most reassuring. So what if that voice seemed to have a bit of a surfer-dude accent?
While my brain kept chewing over my decision, I kept getting little affirmations that it was the right decision. As I’ve watched my son over the last few weeks, he’s transforming into a kindergartener before my eyes. When he participated in the Monsters’ Inc. Laugh Floor show in Disney World, he answered the questions in front of a big audience with a smile. He’s resorting less and less to absurd non-sequiturs in conversation. When his younger brother took apart his beloved train tracks the other day, he responded, “We can fix them tomorrow” instead of screaming. He was even completely ready one day in time for the kindergarten bus, a full 45 minutes earlier than he leaves for preschool. (Repeating that feat every morning is going to to take an act of God, but at least it’s a start.)
Watching his preschool graduation, it all came together. I knew it was right that this was his one and only time he’d graduate preschool. When his attention wandered from the teacher during the song, he brought it back to her. When he didn’t know the words, he tried anyway. In the bounce house afterwards, he enjoyed spending time with his friends. I realized that while it’s scary watching kids grow up, trusting them is worth it. They’ll surprise you with their abilities, if only you let them.
At the ceremony, I didn’t worry about his future. I didn’t even have tears rolling down my face like I expected to. Instead, I just felt so damn proud. While I may end up freaking out on the first day of kindergarten like Marlin, I’ll just remember how I felt watching him cross that little stage.
For more on the struggles and beauty of watching our kids grow up, check out What Will Never Change as a Mom.
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