Today was orientation for students and parents at Zoey's preschool. This year, Zoey will be attending three days a week (last year she did two) for three hours a day. Five of the seven children she went to school with last year will be in her class this year, along with six new children. One of her teachers from last year will also be one of her two teachers this year.
So, needless to say, she's pretty psyched.
Zoey l-o-v-e-d preschool last year. All summer long, she pretended she was one of her friends and I would be another one of her friends. Or she would take on the role of one of her teachers while I acted like one of her friends or the other teacher.
You get the picture.
Since she talked about her teachers so much, I figured she would be beside herself when she saw them again. As soon as we got to school, we saw Mrs. Smith (the teacher from last year who would not be her teacher again this year) in the hallway. Mrs. Smith bent down to talk to Zoey. Zoey smiled and kept on walking. No hugs. No squeals of joy. Just a smile. Talk about being too cool for school. This kid was on a mission: to find her friends.
When we got to the classroom, Mrs. Jones (the teacher from last year who would be her teacher again this year) tried to talk to Zoey. Poor Mrs. Jones didn't even get a smile. Zoey had already spotted one of her friends, so she walked on by Mrs. Jones without even acknowledging her presence.
Once all the kids and parents arrived, the teachers gave us a brief introduction of what was expected of our children and us during the school year. The teachers then played and talked with the children while the parents stood nearby. One of the moms needed to go up the hall and speak with the preschool director. She asked me, since her daughter and Zoey are such good friends, if I would keep an eye on her child while she ran up the hall. Sure. I'm already watching Zoey and Zed. What's one more? You sure you wouldn't rather have the Mom with the three-year-old, two-year-old, and the crying infant in the corner watch your child?
As soon as the mom left the room, her daughter needed to go potty. That figures. I immediately relinquished my duties to another mom. There was no way I was following her daughter into the bathroom. Not in this day and age.
The teachers then passed out the rulebooks along with a questionnaire before taking the kids outside. Here was my questionnaire:
Q: Does you child have a "security item" (a favorite toy, pacifier, blanket, etc.)?
A: No. Why? Is this something I should be concerned about? Is she incapable of feeling? Should I line up a kiddie shrink as soon as possible? Please advise.
Q: Does your child have any pets? If so, what are their names?
A: No. Just imaginary ones. And they're all named Freako. And they're all dead.
Q: Is your child a leader?
A: Does the term alpha female mean anything to you? But you'll find that out soon enough. And so will the other poor children.
Q: Is your child capable of voicing his needs and concerns?
A: See above answer.
Q: Is your child capable of "going potty" by himself?
A: Yes. However, she feels the need to strip from the waist down (including any footwear). And, well, let's just say she has problems putting her clothing back on. So if she's in there for more than ten minutes, you might want to go in there and help her figure out which way her panties go (Why do they not put tags in the back of children's underwear? Do they secretly hate parents?).
Q: Does your child have a favorite color?
A: Pink. And I pity any other little girl who shares this color. Tears will be shed by both parties.
Q: Please provide any additional information that may be of assistance to us during the school year.
A: I am one of those "hands-on" parents. I will want to know what she did at school, how she did at school, and anything else I can wrestle from your memory. When you see me coming, you will cringe because you know you're in for at least a five-minute conversation. I apologize in advance for any and all inconveniences I may cause. Wait... I bet you wanted more additional information about Zoey. Sorry.
(Dis)Orientation
