Butterflies and Rainbows

10 posts / 0 new
Last post
Butterflies and Rainbows

It's my daughter's first day at pre-school this afternoon. Why am I so nervous? I hardly slept a wink last night, my stomach's fluttering like crazy, and I feel nauseous. Maybe it's a "parent thing". Maybe I'm being protective because it doesn't feel natural to permit a stranger responsibility over my child. My daughter is so excited because she'll get to meet "all new friends," and "paint rainbows" and "eat cake". I'm not sure about the cake bit but she will get a glass of milk. Maybe it's a major milestone in both our lives; maybe it's that slow loosening of the ties that's making me so ill.

Here I am fussing and stressing and there's my daughter, hopping on one foot, singing to herself, flushed with excitement. Anyone would think it's MY first day at school. :(

I never painted rainbows at preschool or playschool as we called it back in 1979. I painted large homogenous masses much to the dismay of the staff. My aim was always to completely cover the paper in black paint (I don't know why) but I only ever acheived this once. 'They' always intervened and I usually only got as far as covering 75% of the paper in a muddy brown colour. I distinctly remember one supervisor saying 'Why can't you paint something nice. Look, Robert's painted a lovely house." Yes, but I'm not Robert. jude "Cacoethes scribendi" http://www.judesworld.net

 

My mother has a pathological hatred at 'letting go.' Maybe that's where I get it from. She took me to this place that was called school, with loads of kids. And;suddenly; she wasn't there. I screamed the place down. But one of my younger sisters after screaming the place down, came out with the classic line, "but they said I have to stay at school until I'm fifteen." Sweet.

 

Despiite early clashes over art, I actally loved school because it was so much better than home. I had some fantastic teachers as well. My older brother cried when he was dropped off at school , every day for the first 6 months. I was more like Yan's daughter, flushed with excitement! jude "Cacoethes scribendi" http://www.judesworld.net

 

On the one hand... I remember being told to open my mouth and close my eyes, and these nasty nasty kids shoved a load of dirt into my mouth. And on the other hand... My secondary school English teacher was pretty. ~PEPS~ “Underlay is overrated."

The All New Pepsoid the Second!

Ah yeah peps! Miss Fardy! My first infant school teacher - she was gorgeous. I told her that I lived above a sweet shop because I thought it would impress her. Hmm...you don't think these things through when you're 5. I've just returned from the nursery. The sweetie cried a little when we left. My wife cried when we got back to the car. I just want to put her in my pocket and pet her and keep her away from all the bad in the world, then when I think about it I realise that it's just selfish. There's nothing more mind-teasing than the incomprehensible eagerly avowed - Dennet

There's nothing more mind-teasing than the incomprehensible eagerly avowed -
Dennett

My littlest just started Reception (that's 'kindergarten' to Yanks) yesterday. She was so nonchalant about it all; but then, she's been in nursery since she was very young, so she's a hardened professional already. I was both desperately proud of her in her uniform with her much-older composure, and desperately happy that we no longer have to fork out several hundred pounds a month for childcare. A true milestone, indeed. Maybe now we can afford a nice holiday.
Foster
Anonymous's picture
Since you’re a yank, shouldn’t you say: “My littlest just started kindergarden (that's 'reception' to Brits) yesterday.” But I get your point - you’re in the UK, and they call it reception over there, so when in Rome and all that. I didn't mean to sound polemic. I'm sure I'd say the same. My two year old attended her first day of daycare this week. I don’t know how the English say daycare. She had a blast.
It's just easier to speak the local lingo, Foster, although I sometimes confuse myself. My son is in 'Year Four', which actually means 'third grade'. I have to ask him what grade he's in every year. I still have trouble with purchasing 'rubbers' for my boss (erasers to you and I).
I was speaking to two canadian women last night who'd been on a narrow boat holiday for the past two weeks. We started (somehow) talking about smoking around children and I said "It's not on, is it!" And they looked at me asif I'd spoken chinese. My little one enjoyed it yesterday...got carrot juice all down her white uniform t-shirt, flatly refused to drink the milk because it wasn't pink (charlie and lola's fault) and it was great having a few hours rest. :) There's nothing more mind-teasing than the incomprehensible eagerly avowed - Dennet

There's nothing more mind-teasing than the incomprehensible eagerly avowed -
Dennett

Topic locked