We sent The Boy off to kindergarten today, officially his first day of 'school,' the outset of a 13-year stretch where he'll learn to make spitballs, to copy his friend's homework, to dress like an idiot during homecoming week and, if I'm really lucky, some math skills.Here's what I told The Boy during the days leading up to this monumental event:
It'll be the most fun you'll ever have! You'll meet lots of new friends! You'll learn and grow and sing songs and play games! You're a big boy now! You'll love every second of school! When we pick you up every evening you'll be doing everything in your power to crawl your way back into the building! You'll declare yourself a ward of the state in an effort to spend more time there! School is easy. Eeeeeeeeasy!
Here's what I was actually thinking:
School sucks. Perhaps later in life you'll look back and think you liked it, but for the most part you'll dread every waking moment you're there.
That's right. I lied to my kid. Not for the first time. Probably not for the last.
Of course, I was hardly about to go to the bus stop dressed in black and humming Darth Vader's theme music while warning my child of 13 years of pure terror. For one thing, The Wife wouldn't like it. For another, well, I'd probably have trouble getting the kid on the bus. Which would make me late for work.
I'd much rather he enjoy school, which would probably make it more fun as he has no choice but to attend for the next 13 years. Perhaps he will get his mom's more studious genetic material, rather than my decidedly non-studious genetic material. To this day I have no idea how I got through high school and college. Aaaaaah, the days before stringent educational standards.
The Boy hardly understood the significance of what he did today, probably because he'd been attending some school-like function every day for his entire waking life. So he entered the bus this morning with no problem, confirming the usefulness of sending him to preschool for so long. (You, too, can get your kid ready to stand in line and ride the bus before he or she hits kindergarten, all for the low, low price of $30,000.)
He'll repeat this task over and over again until he's 18, except for summers, holidays, random weeks in March, half of every December, days when The Boy fakes illness, snow days plus days when the school superintendent is either feeling like a freeze baby or just doesn't want to open school and uses the cold weather as an excuse, plus random days labeled teacher 'inservice,' whatever that means.
In the evening, we asked what The Boy's favorite part of the day was, and he told us in detail a story of how his teacher demonstrated the proper way of going to the bathroom (quietly) and the much funnier but not proper way of going to the bathroom (noisily and without washing hands). Clearly, The Boy got a kick out of the 'wrong way,' meaning his favorite part of Day One was teacher-led potty humor.
Sounds like he's in the right class.
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