A Thank You Note

Dear Ian & Moriah,

Nora has been in your care for over a year now.  This means, for many, many months, we have not had a moment’s worry about the her well being during the day. 

Thank you for that gift.

As parents, there is nothing more crucial than knowing our child is happy and healthy when she is away from us.

Thank you for being enthusiastic, nurturing, calm, engaged, just, patient and kind.  You are honoring little lives every day.

With affection and gratitude,

The Campbells

P.S. Check your mailboxes for registration materials to enroll in Waldorf teacher training.

Waiting for Daddy

Waldorf Mama: Parent Orientation Night

Quick impressions from parent orientation night at Waldorf school:

• I love people who love singing as much as I do.  I think Ben was a bit taken aback that I knew the words to “A Gift to be Simple.”
• Wow, I don’t think I’ve been in a room with that many flowy skirts since…the last time I was at a Waldorf event.
• Waldorf folks take warmth very seriously.  We got a ten minute lecture on the importance of layering.
• More yummy, healthy food, but no serving utensils and no water.  Must get on a committee to fix that.
• I may be the most “type A” Waldorf parent I’ve met so far.  I swooped the after care enrollment packets and had my check ready before the end of the presentation.  Must try not to be seen as an over eager pain in the ass.
• Nora’s new teacher needs to buy the house across the street from me.  She said she’s looking! 
• My husband will do all kinds of things that scare the crap out of him (like speak in front of people) if he thinks it would benefit his daughter in any way.   Love, love, love him.
• All these parents are here because they want happy, well adjusted kids.  That rules.
• I am not used to staying up past 8:00pm.  Did not realize the strip clubs on the way home are lit up like that at night.

The Littlest Spammer

I found this in my drafts folder the other day:

TO: dvho <dvho>

SUBJECT: Vbbbqqwrerr55^%##%*^

POOPNHGGBNV. Gubhn.  Mckgxtxiftudfifjifyocyogocgkfi;
8tuztcutbihllzsjwieixksnznsikepkkmammnnaaapewq

I’m thinking Nora is running some sort of preschool pyramid scheme and using my account to send spam.  I hope she cuts me in on some of the profits.

Waldorf Mama: The Potluck

Last night was the potluck for Nora’s new class mates and their families.  We met in the park across the street from her school.  Hyper-punctual, as always, we were the first ones there.  When Nora saw her teacher, she broke into a sprint and started yelling, “Waldorf school!  Waldorf school!  Waldorf school!”

Being early gave us a few minutes to chat with Nora’s new teacher, Miss E.  While Nora was off playing, we talked about Nora being the youngest and the smallest in the mixed age kindergarden class and the best way to approach that.  I said we had almost no reservations, after talking to Nora’s current teacher about it.  Miss E. said that Nora’s teacher had written a beautiful letter for Nora’s admission application (he mailed it directly, so we didn’t get to see it.)  Again, I felt so thankful that Nora has had such a terrific teacher for a year and a half now.

Slowly, other families began to arrive.  The oldest boy in the class is approximately eight times larger than Nora.  She quickly made him her pawn by asking him to push her (very fast) on the merry-go-round.  The mother of this boy reassured me about the aftercare program.  She had many opportunities to observe the aftercare group on the playground after school.  She said the kids were always excited to go to aftercare and were happy and content on the playground.

The kids were mixing nicely, some on the play structure, some running about with sticks, but it was time to haul them in to eat.

First, all the familes formed a large circle to hold hands and say a blessing.  I tried to manuever my socially phobic husband between Nora and me, but he ended up holding hands me and another dad.  Later, in the car, he said he was scared he’d accidentally squeeze the guy’s hand when he meant to squeeze mine.  This gave me the giggles.

The food was exactly what you’d expect to find at a Waldorf potluck.  There were bean croquettes, veggie trays, goat cheese, rice and bean salads and apple cider.  And some killer mac-n-cheese.  I need to find out who made that mac-n-cheese.  I didn’t see any meat, I’m sure everyone was being conscious of the fact that many of the families would be vegetarian.  We are not vegetarians, but I brought a quinoa tabbouleh with pistachios that’s my new favorite recipe. 

Everyone brought blankets to sit on.  Nora thought this was silly and chose to sit at the picnic table by herself and quickly commandeered a bag of tortilla chips as her own. 

We struck up a conversation with the family next to us.  I asked how long their oldest child, a third grader, had been attending (many families send their kids their for early childhood programs and a few years of kindergarten).  The father joked that in the car on the way over, they had been discussing the possibility of parents estimating length of attendance by the amount of tuition they’d paid.  When asked how long your child had attended, you could reply, “Long enough to spend $54,000.”  We all laughed freely at this — in the way you laugh at an uncomfortable truth with someone who completely understands.

After a leisurely meal, we decided to pack up and head home before a meltdown, as we were already a half hour past bedtime.  Though Nora was thoroughly enjoying herself, we managed to get her back to the car without a tantrum.

Ben was tired, Nora was getting there, and I was giddy.  Great people, healthy food, a beautiful setting.  It’s a great start.

Waldorf Mama: What is Waldorf?

When I tell people we’re sending our daughter to a Waldorf school I get one of two responses, a blank look or a salad joke.  Then a get the question, “What is Waldorf?”  I’m invariably disappointed in my own response. 

“Well, it’s an educational system that focuses on emotional as well as intellectual development,” I’ll say. 

Uh-huh. 

“All the toys are made of natural materials,” I tell them. 

Huh?

“Waldorf educates the ‘whole child.’” 

Oh.  

So, there was this cigarette factory in Germany in the early part of the twentieth century.  The factory owner decided he wanted all his worker’s children to be well educated.  He asked a philosopher named Rudolf Steiner to come up with a way to do it.  What Steiner came up with is an educational model that changes with the developmental stages of child, and values a child’s emotional well being as much as academic learning.  At least that’s what we’re expecting it to do.  I’m launching this occasional series, “Waldorf Mama,” to explore our experience with Waldorf education and see if we really know what we’re getting ourselves into.

I first learned about Waldorf through knitting.  Knitting icon Elizabeth Zimmerman sent her children to Waldorf school.  Handcrafts are an integral part of Waldorf education.  What do kids learn by knitting?  Math, dexterity, patterns, structure, patience and perseverance. 

Waldorf also supports kids’ need to be kids, not tiny consumers.  Most Waldorf schools ask (or even tell) parents not to let their kids watch television.  The dress code for our school bars commercial images, nail polish and discourages synthetic fabrics.   

On a typical day, Nora will have circle time, where she’ll sing songs and hear stories.  She’ll make bread or soup.  She’ll dress up in silks and crowns.  She’ll play outside and eat lunch from a wicker basket. 

I once got all freaked out when I guy on Twitter asked if anyone else considered Waldorf education “a bit silly.” Though he said his children didn’t seem the worse for it. Silly?  Then I realized this is precisely one of the things I love about Waldorf — the absence of cynicism. Kids ride unicycles, tumble, play act mythical tales and dance around the maypole.  And this is just right.  Imagination — and silliness — is what being a kid is all about.

Critics of Waldorf say it’s not academically rigorous, or it’s too new age or even cultish.  We’ll soon see for ourselves how much Kool-aid we’re being asked to drink.  Anyway, it really can’t be Kool-Aid, as it’s too laden with chemicals for the Waldorf set.  Likely, we will be asked to drink some sort of herbal tea with immune boosting properties. Mmmm.

As instructed in the parent’s manual, we have procured a raincoat, rain pants, rain boots, a wicker basket with two cloth napkins for her packed lunches, and a pair of soft soled, closed heel slippers for use in the classroom.

On the first day of school, I will help Nora find her cubby, use the bathroom and change into her slippers, then I’ll leave her at the door and let Waldorf work it’s magic.  I hope.

Timeless Pleasures

The Tire Swing

 Nora recently discovered the tire swing.  She likes to spin very fast, for a very long time.  Like a drunk who insists she can drive, she demands to walk on her own after dismounting — and quickly crumples to the bark dust covered ground.  

 Saturday, she spied an older girl deftly navigating the monkey bars and got a gleam in her eye.  Her next challenge has been set. 

In my day, playgrounds were set up on top of asphalt.  My dare devil friend and I would push the picnic tables in front of the swing sets, swing as high as we could and then jump onto the picnic tables, while our parents sat at home several blocks away.  

Nora has some dare devil proclivities already.  While I’m not looking forward to the concerned calls of her friend’s parents in a few years, I do love watching her fearless little self.

Clementine Redux

Oh My Darlin’ (at Bedtime)

Nora bellers from her bedroom.  I just tucked her in for the night.  Ben walks down the hallway to check on her.  She says she has to go potty and she wants me to take her. 

“Mom’s asleep,” says Ben.

“No, she’s not,” Nora responds in a lilt.

“You’re a big kid now.  If you need to go potty, you can go by yourself.” Then, somehow, he leaves the room without igniting a a toddler firestorm.

A moment later, we hear sounds from the bathroom. Ben gets up to check on her; if she pooped, she needs help wiping.  Nora is already back in her room. He sticks his head in.

“I went potty and I wiped.”

“Did you go pee or poop?”

“I just peed,” she pauses, ”I’m going to sing that song you like: 

‘In a cavern,

In a canyon,

Excavating for a mine.

You were lost a and gone forever

Dreadful sorry, Clementine.’”

Knowing

I love the litanies families develop, but I’m ever so slightly worried about this one:

“Nora, do you know what a ‘rubbish heap’ is?” I’ll ask, while reading a Beatrix Potter story.

“Yes,” she’ll say.

“What is it?”

“What?” she’ll reply.

Or I’ll ask, “Do you know what  your Grandma Nubbin’s first name?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“What?”

Or, “Nora, do you know what tomorrow is?”

“Yes”

“What is it?”

“What?”

Perhaps it’s in the way I ask the question.  Maybe she thinks I’m asking her if she wants to know.  Or maybe, just maybe, my smart little girl already thinks she’s supposed to know everything and doesn’t want to admit when she doesn’t.  Because I fear that I am responsible for passing along this particular gene, I’m looking for ways to mitigate the damage. 

Anybody have an idea of how to let a preschooler know that she doesn’t have to know very much at all?