Oliver, on Sunday: “Mommy, are there two days until I go to school?”

Me: “Yes.”

Oliver: “But I don’t want there to be only two days, I want there to be ONE HUNDRED days.”

He didn’t want to go. I sort of didn’t want him to go, either. He’s my first baby! Sure, it’s just preschool for now, but the next thing you know it will be college! Although I think he’ll need a new bookbag before moving into a frat house Harvard dorm.

Oliver’s first day of preschool was five minutes of torture followed by three hours of success. We had talked about it for weeks, so he knew I would be leaving, but the reality didn’t set in until I kissed him goodbye in his classroom this morning and started walking away.

Suddenly I was the mother being chased down the hall by a sobbing, curly-haired giant of a 4-year old. His eyes always look nearly green when he’s afraid, and right then they were the closest to green I’ve ever seen them. I held back my own tears, said I love you, and told him to go wave to me from the window. “Look for my orange goldfish shirt,” I smiled. His teacher was already comforting a younger boy, so the teacher’s assistant suggested, “Here, Oliver, I’ll take you over to the window!” He stopped crying, said, “Okay!” and let her lead him back to the classroom.

Out in the parking lot, I saw his glasses and curls in one of the windows. I waved, he waved. He turned to say something to the teacher’s assistant, and then he disappeared. She waved and gave me a thumbs up. George had Andrew with him while he turned in Oliver’s medical forms, so I had a few minutes alone in the car, just enough time to let a few tears slide and wipe them away before he got back.

My little boy, my first baby, is officially in school. It’s only three mornings a week, but still. SCHOOL. How did we get here so fast?

I played with Andrew for a while when we got home (George had left straight for work), then put him down for his nap. The house was too quiet. Usually that means Oliver is getting into something he shouldn’t, but now it meant He Wasn’t Here. It was nice for about 15 minutes. Peaceful. And then… it just didn’t feel right. I distracted myself with folding laundry and tidying up. I almost anticipated the phone ringing at any minute, begging me to come and pick up my hysterical child who had locked himself in the bathroom and screamed for an hour, but the phone never rang.

He had just gone to the bathroom when I arrived to pick him up at 11:00. When he came out into the hallway and saw me, he burst into laughter and ran over to me. “Hi, Mommy, I love you!” he said, and I once again fought tears.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

“Yes,” he smiled shyly. “But… can we go back to our house now?”

His teacher and teacher’s assistant came over to tell me what he did and praise his behavior. On the way home, he didn’t stop talking: “I sat on my mat for circle time and I got to wear my NEW SLIPPERS! and we made bubbles and had PRETZELS! and I sat by the boy in the green shirt and the teacher has brown hair and a brown shirt and we played train like this ‘CHUG-A-CHUG-A-CHUG-A’…”

And for bonus points, HE TOOK A NAP THIS AFTERNOON for the first time in weeks.

Overall: SUCCESS. It will take time to get used to, but I think both of us are going to like preschool.

…..

We chose a Montessori preschool because we felt it was the most appropriate for Oliver’s needs. Each child has the freedom to explore and learn at their own pace, which means he won’t be stuck doing the same things as other kids if he can do more. This was a major problem for me throughout my school years, and I don’t want him to start off bored this early and end up not caring/underachieving like I did. Oliver can already spell and read beyond his age level, he can do some simple addition and subtraction with the numbers 1-20, he can recognize a bunch of world flags (thanks to building them with Legos with Daddy), so he NEEDS the opportunity to do more.

Montessori programs focus on learning by doing (multi-sensorial), and because they are mixed ages (2 1/2 through Kindergarten), the child can take their knowledge to the next level by then helping the younger kids to learn. Oliver already got a head start on this today! His teacher was very impressed that he helped a few other kids work with numbers (“They had them in the wrong order, Mommy,”), as well as helping them clean up after snack time (which, WHAT? That never happens at HOME! lol). But I was most proud when she told me that after his own brief meltdown, he tried to comfort a younger boy who was crying. “It’s ok,” he told him (how many times has he heard me say this to Andrew? heh), and then he told his teacher, “Maybe you can give him a hug, I think that would make him feel better.”

Hugs do help, even for Mommies.

George and I feel strongly about raising our children with examples of tolerance, respect, and kindness to others, so the Montessori method fits right in. We are glad to know that they promote social skills (honesty, courtesy, sense of community, etc) and practical skills (tying shoes, preparing food, folding clothes, etc) in addition to all the regular curriculum (reading, math, art, science, geography, etc). They also get basic lessons in Spanish (Mondays), music (Tuesdays), and sign language (Thursdays). It’s just a really cool system. There are many great preschools out there, and children obviously don’t need a Montessori environment (or formal preschool at all) to thrive or excel. But George and I feel 100% certain this was the right choice for Oliver, especially this particular Montessori preschool, and we are grateful we researched–and reworked our budget–to give him this opportunity.

I really can’t say enough about the amazing teachers at his school. Not only did his own teacher and teacher’s assistant pay special attention to him (since it was his first time being somewhere without a family member), but the other two teachers and administrators know him by name and they each stopped us at some point as we were leaving to ask him how his day went. They are all such sincerely caring people and it has made the entire transition easier on both Oliver and ourselves. I feel like he is truly in the “next best place” when he’s not at home with me.

So let it rip, Oliver. The sky is the limit!