Elementary Boot Camp

This is only the second week of school and I already feel like the learning curve I'm experiencing is akin to a boot camp for first-time elementary moms.  I had no idea how ill prepared I was for the world that is elementary school.

For one thing, Isaac's teacher, who I have been thrilled about since the first day of school, fell and broke her leg this Monday.  She will be out for an undetermined amount of time while she recovers.  Can you imagine trying to teach 20 kindergarden students while nursing a broken leg?  Impossible!  So I'm bummed about that.

Secondly, Isaac and I had one cranky morning early this week.  He was whining non-stop and I was tired and unable (or unwilling) to cope well with his crankiness on top of mine.  For an hour getting ready in the morning we bickered and pecked at each other, pressing each other's last nerve way too many times.  Every time he whined, I mimicked his whining, attempting to show him how it sounded to me and get him to ask nicely for what he wanted instead.  But I think all I really did was harass and insult him by it.  And then we pulled up to the drop off zone at school and I gave him a kiss and watched  his tiny little self walk into that great big building filled with hundreds of kids who are all bigger than he is and dozens of grownups who may have woken up equally as cranky as his momma did.

And then it hit me...I'm supposed to be the safe one.  I'm supposed to the be one he can be cranky with and not have it shoved back in his face.  Who knows what he's going to encounter in that great big building, filled with hundreds of people, none of whom love him like I do?  I was pretty upset at myself and I made a renewed vow of patience and loving kindness in my response to him when he's grumpy.  There's just too much at stake now that he's away from home for 7 hours every school day.  I want to use every chance I get with him at home to build him up, not tear him down.  The world is hard enough on a child.

And that's exactly what happened next.  On Thursday when I picked him up, Isaac said, "Mom, I had a bad day today."  He then told me about three boys from his class who knocked his lunch box off the table and were kicking it back and forth when he tried to get it back.  I was so bothered by this that I had to blink back tears.  I knew he was going to be the youngest and the smallest in his class, but I had hoped that his big personality would help keep him from being an easy target for bullies.  I also did not expect bullying behavior in Kindergarden.

My first thought was about the principal of the school, who lives a few houses down from us.  "I'll stop by tonight and ask her what I should do!"  But then I reflected that it would be rude to force her to do business on her off hours (and with an overreacting, overprotective parent at that!).  Not to mention that I'd be playing my "neighbor card" way too early in the game.  So then I thought I would call the next morning and try to make an appointment to see her that day.  Thankfully my friend Melissa, who has a fourth grader, came by that afternoon.  I told her the problem and asked what she thought I should do.  She told me that she would just send a note to the teacher, asking her to observe the boys' behavior (including Isaac's) to see if she could pinpoint the cause of any problems.

This seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, and much less of an overreaction than running to the principal's office.  Adel and I spent the evening talking to Isaac about things he could do to avoid a similar situation.  In the end, I felt like the way we handled it enabled Isaac to gain the skills to fight his own battles.  We told Isaac he should make friends and sit with them at lunch (a child by himself seems like an easier target to me).  I'm not sure he got our exact message when he replied with excitement, "I'll make five friends and use them as WEAPONS!"

Finally, as if all that drama wasn't enough for one week, the next day I forgot to put Isaac's teddybear in his backpack.  Each student was supposed to bring a teddybear to school and share about it during circle time.  Halfway, through the school day, I realized that I had forgotten Isaac's.  Although that seems like a small thing, my emotions tend to create drama when there is none.  Instantly my overactive imagination pictured Isaac sitting forlorn and bear-less while the class shared about their teddybears and the mean boys pointed their fingers at him and laughed mercilessly.  I wanted to cry again.  Last year at preschool, I frequently got dates wrong or forgot to send whatever item was requested for the day.  But the teachers were forgiving and the kids were sweet.  This time I thought, "My carelessness is going to make my son a target  again!  He's going to have another bad day because of ME!"

Thankfully my friend Jennifer was available for an on-line chat.  I told her that I wanted to cry and she said, "GO! The school day isn't over yet and even if you're too late, you'll feel better if you at least try."  And so, I went.  Isaac was just finishing up his lunchtime.  I pulled him aside to the tables where parents can eat with their kids and asked him if they'd shared about their teddybears yet.  He said they hadn't, thank goodness!  We emptied out his lunchbox and put his teddy bear snug inside so he could take it back to class without drawing attention to it.  Then I hugged him goodbye and Abby and I returned home to recover from yet another day of "Elementary Boot Camp."

PS, after school I asked  Isaac if he would have been sad if I hadn't brought his bear and if he were the only one who didn't have one.  He said, "No.  It's just a bear."  The boy is smarter than his momma sometimes.