My son started preschool last week. After his first day, he told me he had a 'lubbly' day, and he wanted me to 'brrmmm [drive] him there again'. Much of the class was made up of his good friends from playgroup and ABA. At first glance, it was a lovely environment for a three year old- lots of new toys to explore, a big sandpit, teachers trained in early childhood education, a healthy food policy... so why isn't he going anymore?
The simple answer is- he didn't want to go. And I listened to him. The teachers, and other parents, were mostly surprised that I 'let' him make this decision for himself. His father felt that I must have said something to change his mind, to 'turn him against preschool'.
I wasn't keen on preschool from the start. I felt uncomfortable about Malachi being just one of twenty children in a class, with two teachers who hardly know him. How can they properly meet his needs when they're trying to do the same for nineteen other children?
I know that my parenting beliefs differ from the mainstream. I didn't want Malachi being labelled 'naughty' or 'disruptive' because he preferred to play cars than do a painting, or because he wanted to keep painting instead of sitting quietly on the mat.
I know that most people don't have the same view of children that I do- children are people too! They are not annoyances, they do not need to be taught to 'obey'. Unquestioning obedience is not a valued attribute in adults, except by dictators, so why are our children 'trained' to thoughtlessly obey people in positions of power (ie adults)?
So it seemed to me that the very nature of preschool would conflict with how I am raising my children. But my husband was very keen on Malachi going- he feels that Malachi needs to do something 'away from me'. That, as a three year old, he needs to have separate experiences from me, his mother, the person who is closest to him and who knows him best.
I disagree, obviously. I believe that when he is ready to be more separate from me, he will be. He doesn't need to be pushed or forced- that this in fact will achieve the opposite and make him feel insecure, and therefore more 'clingy'.
But I agreed to give preschool a go- making it abudantly clear that I would not leave him there if he didn't want me to.
We have a book about 'little school', and about what happens there. He was quite excited about starting. We bought a new lunchbox for him, and he labelled one of his hats as his 'preschool hat'. He knew that his best friend Flynn was going too, and was counting down sleeps until he started.
The first morning, we got up and got ready. We'd made his lunch the night before. We packed his bag. As we waited out the front for his teachers to open the doors, his friends started arriving. He hugged them, and they sat together for photos. The teachers opened the doors, in we all went and unpacked bags. The children looked around and found things to do. Malachi sat down and played with some playdough, did a painting, and found the cars. Zara and I watched him for a while. I asked him if he was happy for me to go, and he said yes, barely looking at me. So off we went.
I had mixed emotions- hoping that it would be a positive experience for him, hoping he would come through it without his individually squashed, hoping he'd changed his mind and I wouldn't have to deal with it at all.
I called at about midday, and was told he was fine.
At 3 o'clock Zara and I arrived to pick him up. He gave me a big hug, told me what a good day he'd had, and asked when he could go again.
Over the next few days, he seemed excited about the next time he could go to preschool. The night before, as we made his lunch, he still was.
Shortly after waking up, however, he abruptly changed him mind. He DID NOT want to go to preschool again. He knew Zara and I were planning on going grocery shopping after dropping him off, and he said he wanted to come shopping too. So we went shopping first, and then arrived at preschool. He was still saying he didn't want to go. We talked about it, and agreed that we'd go there, see what was there, play for a bit, and then see how he felt. If he wanted to come home, we'd let the teachers know, and go.
Once we got there, he had a look around. He did a bit of playing. He said he wanted to go home. So we went to tell one of the teachers what was happening.
I got as far as "Malachi says he doesn't want to stay-", when the teacher interrupted. She started listing all the 'fun things' they were going to do that day, and asked if he wanted to read a book with her. Malachi loves reading, and he said that he did. They went and sat down on the mat, Malachi chose a book, and they read it. Malachi hopped up and chose another one, and he seemed settled, so I asked if he was happy for me to go home. He burst into tears, grabbed the book away from the teacher and put it back on the shelf, grabbed onto me and cried, "I want to go hooooome!"
The teacher was a bit taken aback when I took him home, instead of leaving my distressed crying child with her while I walked out, as I guess many parents do.
Next preschool day, we agreed that we'd go to preschool. Zara and I would stay until Zara was ready for a sleep, and then we'd see how he felt.
We stayed for most of the morning. Everywhere I looked, my misgivings were confirmed about the preschool environment. Three children didn't want to stay- all were left crying as their parents walked out. Two spent most of the morning sobbing alone, occasionally being guided to an activity and then left again. At morning tea, children were made to keep eating when they had had enough- "Just have one more bite! You haven't eaten enough! You can't go play yet- just one more bite!" At 'morning group time', children were made to feel uncomfortable, being urged to greet the teacher by name when they didn't want to. Children who did were lavishly praised- "Good girl!"
Still, Malachi seemed happy. He checked where I was every so often, but mostly got on with the business of playing. He ate his morning tea quickly and was off into the sandpit like a flash.
At about 11.15, I told Malachi that Zara was getting tired. Without hesitation, he said, "OK, let's go home." As I was getting his bag ready, the teacher came over. She said to him, "Oh, I'm so sad you'll be missing out on all the things we're going to do later!" Emotional blackmail, anyone? Malachi wasn't phased, though- he was going home and that was that.
We cancelled his place the other morning. It felt very good.
Other mothers are already talking about the undesirable behaviour their children are picking up at preschool- and they've only been attending for a few days. I'm glad I don't have to deal with it. I can get on with the business of raising my child the best way I know how- respectfully, and without interference from institutions that think they know better.
