Firsts

Yesterday was the first day of school for Dave, Jacob, Hannah and (drumroll, please) Benjamin.

I had the pleasure of accompanying Benjamin to his interview with the kindergarten teacher. His interview was at 9:10am; however, he sat on the front-step with his lunch-kit in hand and his back-pack on his back from 7:30am until 9am when we finally left for the big walk to school. A friend mercifully watched the youngest two for me so that I could just be with Benjamin.

Benjamin: who has now officially become Ben according to his school cubby and the correspondences from the teacher. I remember Dave's mother telling me that she named Dave David, not Dave. She told me that school named him Dave; now I understand. One day when I pull all the kids from school (and finally homeschool) I will tell the school board that Section 43 of the Education Act (by which a teacher is allowed to act in the place of a parent when necessary) does not extend to the shortening of names.

Nevertheless. Ben passed his interview with flying colours or, rather, partial phonics and a complete inability to name letter names. This was a result of the phonics program that I used last year. It teaches kids the sounds that letters make but not the names of the letters. When the teacher asked Ben what letter S was, he replied, Snake. O was ostrich and J, well, J was Jacob and Joseph.

The remembrance of his two brothers launched him into a speech about Jacob being the biggest and Jo-Jo being the almost littlest but then there's Baby Isaac. And Sam. The teacher said, Sam? And Ben said, Yeah, my dog. And she sweetly said, Is he your pretend dog? And he said, No. He's my golden retriever and that means that he's golden, sort of like yellow. She then ticked off the box that says: People outside of his family can understand 75% of what he says. However, she did note that he said wabbit, not rabbit.

He was then asked to draw a picture of himself. Hannah asked me later if it was a floating head with sticks for legs and rectangles for arms. I answered yes and she nodded as if to say, That's what he always draws. However, dear Hannah, this time the floating head and its accompanying appendages were under a big blue ocean right next to a submarine. Wow, creative, said his teacher. Interesting, thought I. And then I was told to say good-bye. Just like that. As if he was going off to surgery and I would meet him in recovery.

I watched as he approached the circle-time carpet where the other Senior Kindergartners were waiting.  He was instructed to choose a seat. He circled the carpet like a scared, but haughty, animal before carefully choosing the letters Nn upon which to plop his bottom. And that was that. 

 And I walked home alone and retrieved Joseph and Isaac and felt stressed despite having not much to do. And when Ben arrived home he refused to describe his day, immediately changed into his pjs and went to the basement to play trains. Apparently he has been sworn to an oath of secrecy that has something to do with the importance of bedtime.

Hannah was a little more forthcoming and told me that after recess Ben had left the school yard to enter by the front door. I guess I was too emphatic about the importance of using the front entrance when we arrived that morning for his interview. Luckily his sister caught him and told him to get back in the yard and into line. Which he did; except that it was Hannah's line. So, she corrected him again and all was well. Dave later told me that he overheard Hannah instructing one of the Educational Assistants on bus and walker protocol at the end of the school day. This EA couldn't remember the exact procedure so Hannah reminded her that the walkers were allowed to leave after the departure of the first bus. The EA nodded and said, I believe you, Hannah. And all the walkers left. No wonder her report card says: Hannah is very good at understanding the rules of the classroom.

And now I am left with my two youngest. Isaac is focused completely upon walking and waiting for Hannah to come home. Joseph wants to go out for walks and trips to the bakery where he cries if he is not allowed an eclair - which he insists are bagels with lots of cream cheese. So, we go to the grocery store where he strongly asserts his God-given right to choose what goes in the cart. By aisle 3 we  accumulate chocolate milk, several Fruit-to-Gos, a box of Ritz crackers and a package of colourful sunglasses.  I had come for milk. "But I need little glasses!", he protests. And that's that.

Except that today at lunch I asked Joseph if he missed Benjamin and he look mournfully at me, said, "Yes.  He's not here to make me laugh," and threw his head down on the counter and tried to sob.  He is slightly melodramatic.  He is also a little dangerous as the lullaby that I overheard him singing today bears witness:
Rock-a-bye, baby on the treetop;
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall;
And down will come baby...
Into a bunch of branches with pokey things all over them;
Cradle and all.

I kid you not.  I have been left at home with my most determined child and a baby. I had better find a hobby.