Raw Drip

Less than a week into our Florida relo and we seem to have landed the best daycare provider ever.  Seriously, this place is awesome.  The price is pretty close to what we were paying in NJ but the quality of the staff, the cleanliness & order of the facilities and the structured curriculum are outstanding. 

The kids began attending last Wednesday, but since last week was spring break, Adam’s new permanent teacher was out.  This meant that we had a handful of subs in his room who were polite and capable but didn’t provide us with a lot of feedback on how Adam was transitioning into his new environment. 

When we arrived at daycare yesterday, we went through a new round of introductions meeting his permanent teacher, Ms. C.   Seeing Adam bounce obliviously past her warmly outstretched hand I could already hear the parent/teacher conversation in my head; the one where we talk about his not listening, his not sharing, and his not respecting other people’s boundaries.  

So, you can imagine my hesitation when Ms. C approached me this morning.   I was expecting to get the dreaded laundry list of behavioral issues to focus on at home.  I steeled myself for the inevitable, painful critique of my son’s coping skills – a notorious character trait that has earned Adam the title “Drama King” at home. 

But it was with surprise and relief that I heard Ms. C detail all the ways in which Adam is the ideal student.  I wanted to smack myself in the face a few times to get over the shock.  Whose kid are we talking about here?  I’m suspicious.

It seems the little boy attending her class listens and offers his insightful and surprisingly mature opinions using his real, big boy words – no toddler nonsense words.  And the obedient, friendly little guy in Ms. C’s class possesses an incredible ability to focus and apply himself to the task at hand.  This boy never fights or argues with the other children.  This little boy is a playground peacemaker and caretaker who just wants to see everyone get along.  Ms. C describes him as being delightful. 

Sadly, hearing her heaps of praise, I couldn’t believe we were talking about my son.  How can this be?  All of his past teachers told me stories about his lack of focus and his inability to listen or follow simple instructions.  While I never believed that there was anything developmentally wrong with him (after all, his father isn’t so good with focus or listening either) I was certain that I’d NEVER hear an experienced teacher praise my son for these very attributes.   Part of me wants to scoop him up and cover him with thankful kisses (”I guess I haven’t totally screwed you up…yet!”) and another part of me wants to pin down Ms. C and make her reveal all her super sneaky secret teacher techniques for making him act like the kid I always wanted him to be. 

But maybe I’m shocked by the praise because my perspective of Adam is warped by my close up view of the behavioral forest, if you will.  Maybe if I spent years upon years teaching and nurturing dozens of 3 & 4 year olds, I’d be able to identify the kids with the more serious issues versus the ones who are just going through normal developmental phases.   Maybe Adam really is the fabulous little boy I always knew he could be.

Today is day two of life with Adam in Ms. C’s room.  I can’t help it.  I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I’m convinced that soon she’ll look at my little chatterbox of a boy and realize what a disaster him and his parents are and she’ll regret having offered such effusive praise.  Or maybe I’ll force her to admit that she’d mistaken my boy for some other mommy’s kid.  When I point out to her that my son is the boy in the blue Hawaiian shirt and khaki cargo pants she’ll spontaneously offer up her true feelings in the form of an unrepeatable utterance that will confirm all my suspicions about the impostor kid invading Preschool II…