Archive for February, 2011

Big Boy

For the past two and a half years, Zeke has been attending cozy little neighborhood home-based schools, in which a group of like-minded parents hired a teacher to run small classes in one family’s home. The schools were run co-operatively by the parents, in partnership with the teacher, and parents were instrumental in shaping the daily classroom practices as well as the tone of the classroom. The school has always felt relaxed, informal, and friendly and our families and our children have all gotten to know each other in a way that wouldn’t be possible in a traditional school setting. We have had a variety of teachers and educational approaches, and I truly couldn’t have been happier with the way Zeke has adapted and grown as a little person. But this does mean that I have managed to put off letting go of the reins and sending Zeke off into the “real world”.

Quite recently, our homeschool situation dissolved and though I was really disappointed, I was sure that Zeke was completely ready for a more formal school and I knew that it would be great for him to advance intellectually and socially in a traditional structured environment.

Enter the Lefferts Gardens Montessori School.
When plans were uncertain over the summer, I placed Zeke on the waiting list for the school, never heard back and promptly forgot about it. When I found myself needing a new schooling situation for him, I left a message there and the next day received a call from the director saying that Zeke could start immediately. This is MUCH easier than getting your children into school is supposed to be in Brooklyn–schools are an endless topic of charged, stressful conversation among Brooklyn parents–and I felt really fortunate to be avoiding all the applications and the waiting and the nail-biting.

As the day drew nearer, I felt somewhat tense, but completely prepared. I had filled out all of the paperwork, made a comprehensive list of emergency contacts, located and photocopied Zeke’s birth certificate, taken a photo of him as he currently appears sans idiosyncratic accessories, packed him a healthy lunch and an emergency change of clothes. I arranged for my sister-in-law to spend the morning with Jack so that I could be there all morning with Zeke, to emotionally support him through this very emotional transition. I explained to Zeke that he would stay at his new big boy school until 4:30, and that all day long he was going to be playing with new friends and learning exciting new things. A distinct lump formed in my throat, but Zeke appeared unfazed.

On the appointed day, Aaron and I brought Zeke to class a few minutes early and he immediately made himself at home, examining all of the manipulatives, sorting through beads, and exploring the classroom library. One of the teachers sat him down at a table and quickly absorbed him in sorting numbered tiles on a numbered grid.  Aaron and I felt like we were hovering as the other children started to arrive, so we sat quietly at a table behind Zeke.  As 8:30 rolled around, Aaron needed to get back to work and he said a quick goodbye to Zeke.

I stood behind him mired in indecision.  Would it be better for both of us to just go and to make a clean break? I decided that I would stay behind and watch the beginning of class.  Zeke could get a little nervous when he was left alone for the first time in a new place, right? I looked at his little shoulders in his red and brown thermal and his mop of golden hair, seated at the little pre-school table and he looked so small. I couldn’t leave my special little guy.

I came up behind him and comfortingly gripped his shoulders and said quietly in his ear, “Zekey. Daddy has to go back to work right now, but I can stay here with you for a little while.” (Don’t Worry! Mommy is here!)

Zeke didn’t even turn around. Just continued at his number-sorting task and said indifferently,


“Oh,” I said backing away. “I guess maybe I don’t need to.”

I left the classroom without ever seeing his face. The image of his floppy wheat-colored hair, his small head bent over his work throbbed in my head. “This is how it starts I guess”, I thought and I walked slowly home.