preschool

Evan had his first day of preschool this morning. It was a strange feeling, dropping him off and getting back into the car with Greg beside me and an empty back seat behind us. James started nursery school for the first time when he was younger than Evan is now, yet Evan still seems so small.

Camera/computer issues are still not resolved, but luckily Greg just got a fancy-pants new cell phone and he was able to get a first-day photo of Evan:



Our little baby, all grown up, with his new big-kid backpack and everything. Sniff.

This will probably surprise no one, but Evan loved school, loved it to pieces. When I picked him up he ran to hug me and the first words out of his mouth were to ask me if we could dance ourselves home from school. Sweatshirt and backpack went on, and he was off, skipping down the hall toward the door.

The ride home from school was all narration, because guess what they had for snack??? Raspberry yogurt! And Mrs. S. is the nicest teacher in the world, she's much nicer than James' teacher! And they had story time, but Mrs. S. didn't read a book, she did a puppet show! And there's another Evan in the class, and Evan M was a very good listener for Mrs. S. but Evan S. was, oh, a pretty good listener. School is good.

We went to a welcome picnic at the school on Saturday, and it was a little weird. Greg and I are not so much the type of people to walk up to strangers and initiate small talk, so we kind of hung back and people-watched. The vibe from this school is different from that of James' preschool. Less granola, more Wal-mart. Comparisons: the snacks served at the new preschool were Capri Sun and store-bought cookies; snacks I have seen people feed their children at the old preschool were things like legumes and homemade whole-wheat crackers, and nothing less than 100% juice. Cars in the parking lot at the old school were mostly older minivans with liberal bumper stickers on the backs. Cars in the parking lot at the new school are much newer, shinier, and bigger, even including some SUVs. (I can't imagine anyone at the old school setting foot in an SUV.)

We spent some time discussing the suburban feel of the place before it struck me that maybe now that we live in the suburbs and are sending our son to the suburban preschool, maybe we look like a typical suburban family too. I mean, is there any way to tell from looking at us that I literally make my own granola? I started remembering something about books and covers and resolved to keep my mouth shut until I actually met some of these people. Even rereading the last paragraph makes me feel like a big snob, so -- hey! A project to work on in my new-found free time: less snobbishness.

So this school is not our ideal. It doesn't match, in my mind, the standard set by James' crunchy urban school. But the smile on my son's face, and the excited chatter all the way out the door and during the ride home have convinced me that it's a pretty good place for him to be.