Today I walked into the lobby, handed over some filled-out papers to the woman at the desk and signed my baby up for school. Specifically, preschool. Three days a week, 9am to 1pm.
To most people, this is a milestone worthy of much thought, consideration and even a few tears. For me, it was that and more because I also have to grapple with the nagging feeling that I’m somehow failing as a homeschooler by doing this.
D, my five year old, is doing great at home. He’s reading, writing, building with blocks, playing with his Playmobil toys. He plays with other kids at swimming, coop, soccer and our weekly get togethers with other families. He goes to speech therapy once a week and his teacher loves to see him for that hour.
But, I’ve been feeling like he’s left out in the mornings when I sit down to do work with his sisters, who are in 1st and 3rd grade. He spends those hours playing mostly on his own, not interested in joining us at the table or for any read-aloud stories. And I feel stretched so thin that I am admittedly glad he plays so well on his own. But, there are signs that maybe he needs a bit more action.
Then comes the subject of friends, something I wrote about, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, when I titled a post “My Son Has No Friends“. Our neighborhood has a few boys his age but nailing them down for a playdate is tough.
So, I let the concept of preschool enter my brain, but as many of the preschools in our area are now 5 days a week or afternoons (which conflicts with too many of our activities), I had all but given up. But, then a great preschool five minutes from our home sent an email saying a child was moving and a spot would be opening in their 3-day, 4/5-year-old class.
It was a sign I couldn’t ignore. We went to the school to visit and D fit in immediately. I liked the teachers, and the kids seemed well-behaved and interested in their projects. Their days will include free play, story time, outdoor playground time and some skills building. Oh, and lunch.
So, yeah, D’s going to preschool. Starting November 2nd. And just when most parents are getting used to the drop off and walking back to their cars with hardly a glance behind, I’ll be the one wiping tears from my eyes as I walk back to my car, my two older girls in tow, hoping I’m making the right decision.
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