Summer's out for school

Yesterday we had an open house for Delaney at her new school, Sandy Knoll. Today, I am going to tell you about it.

There are few events in life that are more important and more likely to be forgotten than your first school open house (Hyperbole alert!). I mean, to the infant elementary schooler (not that our daughter is an infant who is starting school- although, with our genes, it wouldn't have surprised me), it is the day when your last summer of true freedom ends and the rest of your indentured servanthood begins- and you're like a blind person crossing I-405- no idea what you're heading into. You meet your first teacher. Sit at your first desk. Find your first cubby. Play with your classroom allotment of toys for the first time. Mingle with the other students- Yup. First time. You feeling me. It's like the preamble to the epilogue to the genesis.

Thing is, in the grand scheme of things, it's not important. I don't remember my kindergarten open house- if we even had one. Actually, the only thing I remember about kindergarten is the fact that we had really cool inflatable letter-people (which is the place where I first learned that consonants are boys and vowels are girls), I only missed 1 day of school all year (chicken pox), and I got in trouble for poking John LaLone in the back with a pencil and saying 'Porcupine'. So what is the point of all that? I AM AWESOME!

I was reading over one of those lists the other day- about how everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten. It was pretty ridiculous. I mean, I'm all about exposing the flaws in the system- but even I'm not cynical enough to believe that we spend upwards of twelves years of our lives toiling in waste. Sure, a society of kindergarten dropouts might make for a nice John Lennon poster. But I'm not going to a surgeon who stopped taking classes after naptime. I wouldn't vote for a politician who stopped learning after the ABC's (although...no, I'll resist).

Besides, the open house is really just a fashion show for the parents. It's a way for us to size up the "competition", get a feel for the teacher, and accumulate just enough information to formulate our own hypothesis about how the education program is run there. From there, we determine what the appropriate level of involvement should be, and proceed accordingly. Look Sandy- I'm a busy man. I'm not going to give myself to you unless I absolutely have to.

So after our initial foray into the cold, cruel world of kindergarten, where is my head at? (This is the point where you just have to pretend like you don't know I'm going to tell you. It'd make me feel really good about myself if you just acted like there was a chance that I wasn't going to keep talking. And talking. And talking some more.)

First of all, I realize how spoiled I was last year when Delaney started pre-school. We knew her teacher, who is an amazingly wonderful woman who has a heart of gold. We never worried for an instant about whose hands she was in- in fact, her teacher was one of the primary reasons why we went with the preschool we did. So it really struck me this year when we met Delaney's teacher for the first time.

I guess I was expecting an angel, or some other form of supernatural being. Apparently I wanted her to be glowing, softly, and speak with a voice that both made me tremble with fear and cry tears of sweet joy and rest in the eternal peace that I had found. I obviously wanted to feel like I knew every word ever spoken or written from the beginning of time until the end of existence simply by being associated with her. Basically all I wanted from her kindergarten teacher was for her to be God.

If she couldn't pass for a deity, I was definitely hoping she'd be hot. I mean, who doesn't want their child to have an attractive teacher of the opposite gender- I'll bet those teachers have no problem eliciting help for extra-curricular functions. Actually, I wasn't hoping that. Not because I actually didn't hope for that. I just don't want to get punched in the arm by my wife when she reads this.

After meeting her, I can definitely say she's not God. And 'no comment' on the hotness factor.

That's not to say that I believe Delaney's kindergarten teacher will eat the children, or cause them to speak ill of our way of life. She seemed very nice, with a pleasant and gentle persona. She'll probably be a great teacher. It's just that, as I blogged about previously, we are essentially like people who lease a car, like it, decide they want to buy it, buy it, and then sublease it. At the end of the day, it's our names on the title- but we're not going to be the ones driving it (except on weekends, when we use our spare key that we kept from the subleaser to break into it and take it for joyrides). Daddy and mommy will always be daddy and mommy- it just won't be as exclusive.

I'm not sure what I was hoping for, and I don't want to make it seem like I was disappointed, or that I'm fearful for the coming year. It was just...different. To Delaney's kindergarten teacher- if you by chance happen to read this one day, just strike the 'not' from the 'not God' part, replace 'no comment' with 'heck yeah' on the looks department and just skip the rest of the blog. It's not that good anyways.

Hey, that doesn't mean the rest of you can leave!

The other worry is that our kids will be pushed to the side. I suspect most parents feel like their children are 'special', 'gifted', and 'need attention' and feel concern about other kids getting in the way of that. The difference is that our children, because of their inherent genetic structure and residual awesomeness, are special, gifted, and need attention. Last year, there was no problem- Delaney was in a small classroom in a small,small school. This year, she'll be a little fish swimming with sharks, baracudas, and Crocosaurusi.

You need to see this movie, just to tell other people that they should see this movie. It has Urkel in it...and it's the worst movie ever made.

All in all, I think it's going to be a good year- if you can tell such things from first dates. It's still frightening to think about the uncertainty that these next years hold. The fact that I am handing over the reins of child-rearing to a system that is falling apart is a little disconcerting, honestly.

But therein lies the beauty of the situation. As I stood there outside the brick walls of Sandy Knoll, talking with Sara about our first impressions, I realized that there was the opportunity here. I was able to look at the situation, take my fears and concerns, and repackage them as a chance for hope. Sure, if we stand idly by then the tidal wave of irrelevance could sweep our daughter and carry her to the land of the Golden Arches. But we have a chance to be involved, and if we're involved, and we keep up on things, and get involved in the goings-on of the school, then we can make sure that not only will our daughter receive the best education for her- but for those other little makos and stingrays as well.

Picture- http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BNDY2NTM2MzAyM15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNjk1MTIwNA@@._V1._SY317_CR6,0,214,317_.jpg