Sailing On



The boat Connor has been making in Kindergarten.

 Tomorrow, in all likelihood, Connor will attend his last class ever at Potomac Crescent Waldorf School. Barring unforeseen circumstances, Connor will start first grade in the Fall at our neighborhood school. I've told more than one parent that sending my children to a Waldorf school was quite possibly the best parenting decision I've ever made - and I wasn't exaggerating. What I didn't always tell them that it wasn't just for my kids, it was good for me, too.

The thing I learned most from observing my children in parent-child class (the first class Connor attended) was that sometimes, it's important to just be present. It's not necessary for me to come up with constantly stimulating entertainment, or train my children how to do things like read, write, and sit still. It wasn't necessary for me to talk to my children constantly, and make sure their toys had bright lights and exciting tunes. An endless supply of batteries was overrated, for sure.

What my children needed most, in these early years, was for me to recognize each of their gifts, and to be there to catch them when they fell, but not always be the one to pick them up. Because what Connor has taught me over and over again, is that the thrill he gets from accomplishing something on his own is unmatched by any other thrill.

When Connor was a little guy, we'd often hoist him up onto a step to view something. He would then fall off. It took a while for Ed and I to figure out that Connor is the kind of kid who needed to map where he was. If Connor climbed onto an object, it was rare that he would fall off. And you know what? Today Connor can climb more steadily than I ever would've imagined, he can run without tripping (most days), he can direct his body to do pretty much anything he wants to do.

I stumbled upon Waldorf education in the unlikeliest of ways. I was pregnant with Helen, and I knew I needed something that Connor and I could do after her birth that would remind him that I was still available to him. I also needed to remind myself that I could still be available to him, even when I was in the throes of a baby who screamed all night from painful reflux. A friend of mine who I respect deeply couldn't stop telling me about how lucky he felt that he happened into Waldorf education for his child. He would tell me things like "Elaine, I sometimes don't even speak up when people complain about their school experiences because I feel so guilty that I found something so good and they're stuck where they are". For the record, their child now attends public school and adores it. After several of these conversations, I googled "Waldorf School, Arlington, Virginia" and I felt like I hit the jackpot when I found one. Connor's and my first parent-child year was a touchstone in a sea of what must have been great uncertainty for him.

For the past two years, Connor has been in the 5-day Kindergarten class. He's been blessed with a male teacher - whom he adores, the nicest assistant teacher in the world, a half-day program - which I adore since it allows he and Helen to spend their afternoons together, and an incredible place to build, climb, imagine, negotiate, paint, and draw. And so much more.

Last year, parting in the morning was hard for quite possibly the whole year. He didn't cry, but he didn't want to always let go either. So his teacher would scoop him up into his arms, and let him wave until Ed's or my car left the parking lot. It wasn't sadness that drove Connor, it was just that he liked being with his parent. Another parent in the school once observed this and said "do you see that? That's the reason I know you'll be back next year even though you're planning on going to public school Kindergarten". And she was right. We came back. And the only moment I've ever looked back at that decision is the day Ed wrote the tuition check. Every other day I've loved that decision we made. Even if I did have to live through a migraine to make it.

This year, Connor barely has time to bid Ed or I farewell. He bursts into the gates of the playground, checks out who else is there, decides whether he's going to try and claim the giant hollowed out stump as his dish factory, his rocket ship, his cave, or whatever else it might be for the day - or whether he's going to look for fun in the sandbox, at the climbing wall, or in the tree.

He's such a different kid. He told me today he doesn't want to go to our neighborhood school. He wants to be in Kindergarten for two more years. He wants to make a sword - something the 6 year olds in the class got to do this year, and he wants to be in class with Helen - something that is theoretically possible. Not only does a child have to be 6.5 before entering first grade, a child also has to pass certain readiness tests, which include jumping rope, walking on a balance beam, and other random things that I know sound completely ridiculous, but in the context of the school make a lot of sense.

I know you would love being in your Kindergarten class one more year, Connor. And maybe the neighborhood school will be a disaster and you'll end up back there. But for now, Connor, I just feel something deep in my gut that says you're going to love first grade.

Love,
Mommy