I've talked before about my world-class worrying skills. I am just an awesome worrier. Worrying is how I cope with situations, how I prepare for the unknown.
But I've also talked about how the issue of my child's education is somehow impervious to my otherwise pervasive worry. It's as though, while every other concern in life is drowning in a sea of worry, education is safely wrapped in a waterproof flotation device.
I honestly can't figure out why I'm not more freaked out. Maybe it's because he is four, and in preschool, and the time for freaking out hasn't happened yet.
Except, waiting until an appropriate time to worry isn't really my thing. My usual tendency is to worry now, about everything, and then to go back and revisit those worries ... and repeat.
Which is why I feel a little bit bad that I just can't muster up any worry about the latest situation at Nathan's preschool.
Let me explain. Nathan's preschool is broken into three "grades"-- the twos, the threes, and the fours--and each grade has two co-teachers. Out of these six teachers, three have quit this year, and it's only October. Two got better-paying jobs, and one is an older woman who was ready to retire. The latter is one of Nathan's teachers, and while it seems more logical that a teacher would retire at the end of a school year, you never know what's really going on with regards to somebody's personal situation.
Bottom line, I don't believe the teachers left because the preschool is a crappy place to work. Or, if I'm going to be very cynical, I don't get the impression that the preschool is any crappier a place to work than any other place. People leave jobs. That's a reality of life. Things happen.
But when things happen that might affect the day-to-day life of somebody's precious child, it ends up being a very challenging situation for the higher-ups.
Take the example of the three-year-old class. Unfortunately for the new preschool director, the three-year-old class started the year with subs in both teaching positions. I heard the parents complaining about it in the parking lot. I am so outraged! This really upsets me! She brings home art projects all the time! Why can't it be more academic?
Dude, chill.
I heard that the Tuesday/Thursday preschool class has lost 10 students in the first two months of school. That's 18 students down to 8.
Then, in the latest turn of events, we received a letter last week that said that one of the teachers in Nathan's four-year-old class had resigned. The preschool director, who I know because she used to work in the gym daycare, saw me reading the letter on the way out of preschool and said, "Let me know if you have any questions." I told her I didn't, that I understood, that I myself was a teacher who quit mid-year. I went on to say that Nathan would be fine, and that in fact I'm not sure he would even notice that he got a new teacher unless we pointed it out to him.
The director reassured me that it was fine to be concerned, I mean after all this is my child. It was like she was telling me I should be upset. That's why I started to worry: Am I not worrying enough?
Yeah, I know.
Shortly thereafter we were given a notice about an upcoming parent meeting. The notice said that the meeting would cover, "Things you want to know but were afraid to ask." I personally wanted to come to the meeting with questions about the female anatomy, but my smart-assery is much more limited in non-Internet settings.
Prior to the meeting I went to the dry cleaners, which is relevant because the owner of the dry cleaners has a son that goes to the same preschool. I asked her if she was going to the meeting. I expressed that I didn't want to go, but felt like I was a bad parent if I didn't. She agreed, so we both went.
The meeting began with the preschool director, who as I said I know from the gym, and the building director, who I know from my plays, attempting some preemptive damage control. We understand that continuity is so important for young children. The teachers all left for legitimate reasons. We want to maintain an open line of communication with the parents. I felt like my mere presence at the meeting suggested that I was somehow an adversary to these people, which was uncomfortable for me because really I just want everybody to like me.
When it came to the Q-and-A portion of the meeting, I was actually kind of pumped to get some new material to ridicule on my blog. For the most part, though, people were kind of shy in asking questions, probably because they're all more comfortable criticizing people behind their backs than to their faces (so we have that in common, at least). Somebody asked whether a new teacher had been hired yet, which was a pretty reasonable question. Another mom asked if we could expect more "reading readiness" activities, which seemed like a bit of a thinly-veiled criticism.
Finally a possibly annoying parent stepped up.
She began by complaining that the time between the start of the year and the distribution of the student progress reports was too long. She expressed that she would rather have near-constant feedback from the teachers as to her child's progress. "At my older daughter's kindergarten, she gets a weekly progress report," the mom said. Umm, did this mom notice that the preschool is not kindergarten? She nattered on about school-home partnerships and whatnot.
FWIW, I think school-home partnerships are a good thing, I just think asking a crappily-paid preschool teacher to take extra time to create a weekly progress report for each kid is kind of asking too much. Oh, and when I was a teacher, we were glad to fill out any progress report form that a kid shoved in our faces, so long as the parent was the one to create the form.
Anyway. Throughout the meeting, you could tell the people in charge were really trying so hard to keep this so! positive! It felt awkward. They were nervous and kind of suck-uppy. We want to hear what you have to say! We will take all your suggestions into account! It's all about you and your children!
I kept on telling myself that I was supposed to be totally freaked out about this apparently huge disruption in my child's life. Come on, I told myself, you should muster up some worry here. This is your only child, and apparently he will be scarred for life because of a change in personnel at his preschool.
But, try as I may, I cannot see what the big deal is here. Maybe it's because Nathan isn't the type of kid to get overly-attached to any particular person.
Or maybe all of the sudden he's going to lose it with the new teacher and start behaving in a way that manifests his extreme struggle with the transition to a new teacher.
But I'm not worried about it all right now. And I don't mean to sound judgmental by suggesting that I'm more enlightened than the other preschool parents. I have no room to judge people for being worried. For crying out loud, I myself am worried that I don't worry enough. I can't exactly criticize others for worrying about actual, real-life events.
And just to assure you that I am, in fact, crazy in other ways, I will say that there are aspects of Nathan's future education that I am worried about. I'm worried that he won't be well-behaved at school. I'm worried that the teachers will blame me if and when he does misbehave. I'm worried the teachers won't like me. I'm worried that I'll want so badly for the teachers to like me that I won't be able to approach them when I do have concerns about Nathan. I'm worried that I won't be able to be an advocate for my child.
So, you see, I do worry about all the usual stuff. If only it stopped there.
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