Thursday, September 20, 2007

Every time I see the word curriculum, I think circumcision.

This morning when Sophie and I dropped Izzy off for school, she took off from me once again, and ran down to her classroom. But she only goes on Mondays and Wednesdays, which is actually a very difficult point to convey to a two year old.

Her well-meaning and very sweet teacher saw her and ran out, picked her up and said, "Oh, Sophie just wants to give me some lovin's." Sophie laid her head down on her shoulder and snuggled tight.

The teacher walked around and around and I kept thinking she would put her down, but nope, she never did. Finally, I walked around to where Sophie's head was facing and I reached for her.

Sophie reaches out with one hand...and pushes me away.

"You go," she demands. "I stay."

I loved it. It means so much to me that both kids are so happy there and really want to go. Heck, I love the teachers and facilities probably just as much as they do.

Weirdest thing of all? Sophie's teacher said she's been good as gold every day. You all know how truly weird that is. Izzy is being his normal self, both good and bad. I'm nervous every time I pick him up.

Yesterday, they went to "Chapel" in the sanctuary for a bible story. Izzy acted up so much that the aide (who is the school's director) took him back to the classroom by himself, where he continued to be so bad that he missed part of playtime as well. Worst of all, however, is that he told the teacher he didn't have to be good because, "My mommy doesn't care about Chapel!" *cringe* His sweet, sweet teacher looked mortified having to tell me what he'd said. She even kind of whispered it like it was blasphemy that couldn't be spoken aloud.

Bad thing is, he was unknowingly telling the truth. I'm a little uneasy about mixing religious education with schooling, but it's a private preschool and it's a part of their curriculum that I agreed to when I signed him up. But while I don't necessarily "care" about Chapel, I do expect him to be respectful of his teachers and do what they say. I don't "care" about potato art, but when I was told about the fight over who got the largest piece of potato to stamp with, my reaction was the same.

So now there are two swords, a gladiator hat, a Scooby Doo book, and a pumpkin sitting on top of my fridge, and they won't be coming down until he's quiet and respectful during Chapel.

There's also a Spiderman in a "Power to the Superheroes" pose on top of a picture in my bedroom, waiting patiently until Izzy stops walking into our room in the middle of the night to wake Chris up to tuck him back in. I hope Sophie's not in grade school before Spidey comes down.

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