Teaching the 4/5's class in my preschool, I often have children who, together with their parents, choose another year of play over heading off to Kindergarten. Generally, these children have a later birthday and their families wisely choose to do the 4's program over so that their child will
thrive in Kindergarten, rather than
survive in Kindergarten.
This year, by the start of our school year last week, 3 of my 15 students were already five, so the Fab Fours have become the Fab Fours and Fives earlier than they usually do.
When parents are ruminating on this sometimes difficult decision of taking the road less traveled, the thing they always ask is "Will my child be bored?" although sometimes it's put "Will my child be challenged?" We learn through play at our school, so I can't take credit for the early readers. I can't take credit for the child who enters my class counting to 100 by fives or tens or who can add multiple addends quickly in her head. I can't take credit for the child who knows the habitat and dietary requirement of every animal on the planet. Most likely, these children have blossomed in their knowledge curled up in the laps of their parents, who feed their child's interests in the same varied and nutritious ways they've nourished their bodies...trips to the zoo, the library, the museums and galleries, and contriving dinner and travel games that push their children on to intellectual heights. Not to mention working side by side with me at school as coop parents.
When children return to repeat another year with me in my classroom, it's not going to be the same as the year before. Not because I may not trot out the same art projects and games and provocations that I did the year before. It will not be the same because the child is different. The child is another year older and so perceives everything through eyes that are another year older. A habit of inquiry that is another year older. A different group of friends with whom to experience and collaborate.
My friend Enzo is back this year. He started every day of last year with the same wagon, the same shovel and the same two best buddies. They dug the same holes daily in different areas of the playground and sometimes the holes filled with falling leaves or the ground was frozen or the dirt was dry and dusty or muddy and wet and sometimes the shovels accidentally traveled over the fence. They never tired of the same efforts, repeated the same way, yet differently, daily, for each and every school day of last year.
And Enzo would never ride in the neighborhood carpool. Two other families lived within a ball toss and yet, Mom or Dad drove him to school daily.
This year, Enzo comes in a carpool every day and wishes his Mom wasn't always the one to drive (she aides in the class daily) so he could ride in his friend Quinn's car. This year, Enzo hasn't once asked for a wagon or claimed a certain color shovel. This year, he has paired his passion for monster trucks with a new found enthusiasm for Star Wars. This year he shows a tender side, caring for the babies and animals in the classroom . This year, he tells his friends "I love you" during lunch or play or whenever the emotion overwhelms him. This year he jumps up to count off in Tagalog (something we learned from his buddy last year that he's brought back with him this year), tapping friends' backs to send them off to wash up for lunch.
This year, Enzo is a leader. And he knows exactly how it's done because he's been here before. And both the place and the boy are the same yet different.
