Mama bear.
Whether Nicolas looks like Joe or me depends on who he’s standing next to at the moment. But in the personality department, he takes after his daddy: a quiet observer who’s slow to warm up into a bubbly, mostly happy human. Nicolas prefers the periphery in new situations and doesn’t like to be put on the spot. And he certainly doesn’t relish being the center of attention. But just because he’s not saying much doesn’t mean he’s not taking in everything. For better or for worse, nothing gets past the kiddo who seems to have inherited the freakishly good memory that runs on his father’s side.
I wasn’t surprised to see him not exactly loving the spotlight of the Christmas pageant at playschool. (He had been selected to play Joseph and, true to form, he took his “baby Jesus” handling duties very seriously but wasn’t thrilled to rock around the Christmas tree in front of an audience.)
But I was surprised when, about six weeks later, his classroom teacher informed me he was “behind.”
Of course, she didn’t say it outright. At least not at first.
As I was packing Nicolas into his stroller after school one Monday, she asked about his daily routine. I figured she was going to bring up potty training or the fact that he was overly grumpy after deciding that he would no longer take an afternoon nap. I didn’t figure, however, that I’d be told that he was falling behind his classmates because he didn’t color in the lines and didn’t speak up when put on the spot in front of the class. (May I remind you gentle reader, that he’s not yet three years old.) I certainly didn’t expect to be told that I should be doing “homework” in the afternoons with him to include line drawing skills and public speaking practice.
I could feel my mama bear rising as she spoke and as Nicolas shrunk further and further into his stroller. He was picking up everything she was throwing down. And I wasn’t about to have it.
In the most diplomatic voice I could muster, I reminded her that we had had Nicolas evaluated and that the results showed the exact opposite. My sweet, creative, curious thinker was shy, yes. But behind? Not at all.
I knew I needed to stop the conversation from going anywhere else before I said something I regretted. And, more importantly, it needed to continue out of the range of its subject. I asked if we could schedule a parent-teacher meeting for the following Monday.
But I’m pretty sure I had already made up my mind by the time we walked home. The playschool was no longer right for my child. My mind was made up even more over the next few days as I comforted my kid and assured him that Isha Ma’am’s evaluation didn’t hold up in my book.
How everything unfolded from there still blows my mind. A quick call to a playschool catering more to foreigners had an immediate spot open for the afternoon program even though I was hoping only for the next academic year. And a tour that Friday afternoon sealed the deal. He’d start the next week.
The parent-teacher meeting that I had requested at the old school ended up being a short conversation about why I was pulling my kid out. I understood the intense pressure the teaching staff was under to prepare their pupils for the Indian school system. But I had no qualms telling them that it wasn’t right for my kid and that literacy worksheets and drills weren’t at all the play-way and Montessori pedagogy we had been promised at enrollment.
Of course there was a transition and bumps along with the change.
The very first day at new school, we found out that a full-day spot was available. Nicolas would be going to school for six hours instead of three and starting an hour earlier. Plus, we had a commute by taxi instead of a short walk. My not-such-a-morning boy took a little bit of time to get used to all of it.
But I haven’t regretted the change for one second.
In the past month, I’ve seen my kid blossom. (And the school director confirmed today that it’s not just happening at home.) He talks himself through mistakes and accidents. He uses way more “polite words” than before. He seems to be making strides in the socio-emotional arena (which we always knew was his growth edge). He has a best friend. And he comes home bubbly, making up silly songs about his day.
Will he read by four, like his Indian peers at his last school are expected to? Maybe. Maybe not.
But will he be loved and honored and encouraged to grow in the ways that he needs?
Hell yes. This mama bear will make sure of it.
