Saturday, December 10, 2011


Yesterday the lovely husband and I had a milestone moment. We went to our first parent-teacher conference in E's kindergarten. It's nothing less than pure fun to hear her teachers talk about her, and it was 25 minutes of straight compliments. She's reading ahead of standards and she's transitioning her handwriting to lower-case letters of her own initiative and she's well-liked by everybody and she's attentive and answers questions and they have some little signal with her for when they know that she knows the answer but they feel they have to give another kid a turn.

Sweet E talks about kindergarten every waking minute, she loves it so much. I asked her about a week ago if she remembered when it scared her and she looked at me like I had three heads. Internet, you remember, don't you? That first month of school...I don't know what. I can't finish that sentence. The scars are still too tender.

I mentioned that to her teachers yesterday, that she doesn't remember not liking kindergarten and her absence of such a memory fascinates me. Her teachers are charming and gracious and they truly adore her, and one of them immediately responded, "Well, good! That's just what you want, right? She should only love it here and she does. So we won't remember it, either," she concluded, wiping her hands as if she could wash the memory away.

And then she bit her lip. "Well, I do remember when she hit me. That I haven't forgotten." Luckily she laughed, and so did we.

I do not miss those panicky flailing days when she had to be dragged into the class against her will. And I remind myself of that every single evening, when I wonder when she might stop talking.

E and class performing their kindergarten Thanksgiving program a few weeks ago. I love these teachers and I love this school and I love feeling happy that she's happy and now I love parent-teacher conferences, too.

Edited to add: this post made the front page of DC Blogs.
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