And just like that, in one little bundle they handed me one year of my son’s life. The Brat had his last day at school and the kids weren’t required to go in. It was the day after my dental surgery and I walked into his school in agony, my face swollen, sleep deprived and rather fraught.
I’ve realised I’m awful at dealing with milestones. I’m much calmer when the Brat’s arm pops out of the socket, compared to how I feel each time he changes a class or reaches a milestone. I had taken little Thank You cards for the teachers and as I gave it to them, much to my embarassment, I started crying. I turned away quickly and left the OA and them to stare at each uncomfortably.
As I flipped through the art work done during the year, I watched his hand grow steadier. The colouring grew more confident, the drawings looked less like scribbeles. The report card says they will miss the naughty little fellow who grew into the most helpful child in class. I flip it back to read it again. Naughty? My son? Kabhi nahi!!!
The OA came home and laughed his head off at the typical mother response – that my son couldn’t possibly me naughty!!
Anyway – apparently (and I quote now) he loves dancing and trying out new steps, is happy in the company of his friends and is constantly chatting (ah, my son, you get that from your mother!), is physically dexterous, clears up after snack time and is very particular about putting away toys and puzzles, excelled in saying his part in the concert, pick up a tune effortlessly and joins the chorus merrily, speaks English well and has a good vocabulary, is eager to take part in all class discussions and makes intereesting contributions during circle time. He is energetic, friendly, lends life to the class and is very receptive.
It goes on.. but I shall stop. I appreciated the detail in which they went on to give anecdotes and examples from the year gone by. I cried some more and then wiping my swollen face went to talk to the teachers and thank them. It’s a wonder I live by my words because I just stood there holding their hands and sobbing… and at a loss for words. I don’t know if they’re used to mothers getting this way at the end of the year, but I do believe they gave my son the best they had to give and it’s rare that a mother concedes that.
I wasn’t too happy with him getting into this school, I wasn’t very comfortable during the year either, but he had a good time and stayed his happy, well adjusted self which is what is important so I have no complaints. Now he goes on to big school, in a uniform and in a school bus. I have a feeling the OA’s going to have a difficult couple of weeks dealing with his cranky wife.