First Day of School

Today was Brandt's first day of school.  He has been very excited about going.  We went to "Meet Your Teacher" night two weeks ago and were able to check out his classroom.  He did a scavenger hunt around the room, locating cubbies, the bathroom, the computers, the reading corner, the drinking fountain, and the playground.  Brandt was disappointed when he couldn't find his cubby, but he was reassured by Mrs. Bigelow (his teacher) that the names hadn't been put on the cubbies yet, and that by the first day of school, his would be tagged.

Last week, on Wednesday, he had his kindergarten assessment.  Not a test, an assessment.  I didn't want him to be nervous.  While he sat with Mrs. Bigelow and identified numbers and letters and wrote his name and did simple math, I filled out lots of papers and tried to surreptitiously listen to how he was doing.  I was too far away and he spoke too quietly.  Mrs. Bigelow assured me that he did fine and there was nothing to be concerned about.  I found myself wondering if I was a hovering mom, which I really don't want to be.  I knew he was ready and wasn't really worried, but I wanted a complete sort of report, which I didn't get.

Last night, very sweetly, Kent gave Brandt a father's blessing.  I found myself crying through the whole thing, touched that Kent would use his priesthood to bless our son at such an important time in his life.  Brandt has been remarkably calm as we have talked about school and hasn't expressed any fear or anxiety or even nervousness.  When I have asked if he was excited, he always said, "Yes!"  But I was glad Kent blessed him.

And then, finally, THE day arrived.  Brandt's first day of school.  It really and truly was his first day of school because I didn't send him to pre-school.  I made him french toast for breakfast; I wanted him to be fortified for this first day.  We had family scripture study and prayer, and then all walked to school, even Kent.  But we were late.  That's right, late for his first day of school.  How bad is that?  I kissed him outside his classroom, told him I loved him, and followed him in.  Fortunately there were still lots of people in the classroom, other parents were taking pictures, and we weren't the absolute last (two others were still not there).  Brandt found his cubby, hung up his backpack, found his name tag, selected a carpet square to sit on (green, of course), and sat down at a table with only one other boy.  

Brandt seemed absolutely fine, didn't cling to me at all, showed no hesitation.  So I left and went back to Kent and Blythe who were waiting on the playground and then I burst into tears.  Real, heavy flowing tears.  I was surprised.  I thought I would be fine.  Nope.  In my defense, Kent was crying too, just not quite as hard.  As we were walking home, Kent's arm around my shoulders, he said, "We need to make some new friends."  I replied, "I have friends, they just all work.  I have no one to play with."  Blythe piped right up and said, "I will play with you, Mom."  So apparently here is how it will go from now on: Kent--work; Brandt--school, Mom and Blythe--playing.  Should be good.

Did you see this picture and wonder if we sent Brandt off to his first day of school in a dirty shirt?

Me too. 

It was just wet.

He is just beautiful and so grown up looking with his backpack slung over his shoulders.

Wish this was in focus.

He looks just a bit nervous, doesn't he?  

Brandt selected a green square of the carpet to sit on. 

No surprise there.

Walking home, Blythe wanted her picture taken too.

Not fair to have everyone in an uproar about Brandt and leave her out.

Here he is, having survived his first day.

All two hours of it.  

Kent and I were excited to hear all about Brandt's day.  He reported that when you go to the bathroom, "you turn the sign to 'Stop' and then back to 'Go' when you are finished."  Then there was a song that you should sing afterwards.  Brandt sang, "'Wash, wash, wash your hands,' then I don't know what else."  He got to play outside, but not with the other class.  When I asked about other students, he mentioned one, Britton, who lives in our ward and is in his Primary class.  He was excited to show us the raccoon puppet he made too, and to tell us about the kissing hand.  

We have The Kissing Hand, a book about a young raccoon, Chester, who is nervous about going to school for the first time.  Chester's mom kisses his palm and tells him that when he is scared or uncomfortable, he can put his hand to his cheek, and her kiss will be there to comfort him.  We have this book and if I was more on top of things, I would have read it to him and kissed his palm this morning.  Instead, we read it for family home evening, with Brandt using his puppet, and when we got to the going to school part, I cried again.  I suppose we will all get over it and be fine.