Lilly in the parking lot in front of "school"
The other thing I was dreading, except returning to the above said manuscript, was Lilly (and I, as it turns out), taking a class at "school;" otherwise known as the Early Childhood Family Education Program (ECFE) offered by the public schools in town. From this post, you may remember me being critical about this program and so wonder why I chose to enroll us in it. Well, firstly I wanted to find out for myself how good or bad it could be. Secondly, a lot of my friends with their kids are in this class, though these very friends are among my sources for my skepticism towards this program. I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity of spending more time with my friends, and Lilly with her friends, playing and learning. I knew this class would include separation time, which I know it's time for (though I'm not liking it). Seeing we constitute about half of the class, my friends and I thought we might have a chance at changing the format a bit and, finally, they all thought I'd be a good candidate to step up and speak out, if that were to be needed.
This was the part I was not happy about. I mean, who likes conflict anyways. But I know I would do it, it's just the kind of person I am. And I was just anxious I'd make more of a scene than need be.
It's not been easy. The teachers are overly sweet and teacherly, to kids and moms, and the token dad. So from being greeted and instructed on how to fill out the name tag, it's been a patience trial for me. The space for the kids is great though with lots of stations for them to explore different activities in. From 8:30 till 9 they roam and play freely. Then it's circle time where we sing, the teacher leads some sort of activity and then reads a book for them. At 9:15 the kids line up to wash their hands and the moms and dad are instructed to leave the class room for our (!) class while the children have a snack and then their play of choice before we return for a final goodbye song.
It's "our" (!!!) class that gets me the most. It's listed on the day's schedule as our "discussion time," but oh no, they insist on letting it be known to us that this is our class time because now it's time to ensure we're parenting the right way. Our "teacher" is a grandma who's so nervous she can barely listen, asking didactic questions like, what kind of parenting style do we not approve of, or superficial questions like, did anyone have a particularly memorable moment of parenting this summer.
Ahh. First day I looked around and saw my best friend just about bursting in her seat. Second time I threw out something challenging to talk about. Like separating from our children, which we're all dealing with as we speak, and many of us--I know at least my friends and I--struggling with. It caused a heated discussion about letting children cry-it-out or not, and I was thanked by my friends after class (during our debrief bitching at the local coffee shop) for bringing this topic up. So I guess this "class" can turn out for the better, but it's going to take work, and that's just not as uplifting to me as when you don't have to fight for a good discussion of sharing challenges and strategies in a safe forum of fellow commiseration and peer boosting.