Our state offers free preschool through public schools and various private schools who meet the requirements. We are still deciding what to do about "real" school next year, whether homeschooling or charter or what, but meanwhile it seemed wise to have him prepared for the possibility of traditional schooling in a classroom setting. And, I won't lie, there was some appeal to the idea of having him out of my hair for three hours a day. The house begins to feel very small with two boys tearing through it all day long.
After a first week in which it was clear he was having to adjust to the novelty and schedule, Peanut has blossomed in ways I would not have believed. It's a montessori program, with a director who, from what I've seen, has high expectations and a no-nonsense policy. Though there is plenty of playtime, there is also actual "work" taking place, and the effects are showing up at home.
Peanut has always behaved as though he is allergic to paper and crayons. I had long since given up trying to get him to draw or color alongside me as it invariably turned into a battle of wills. His sunday school pages were mere scrawls, usually in one color only, and without any indication that he understood that the color was meant to be applied to the figures on the page instead of just at random. "Drawing" was nonexistent. The more I encouraged him to try making a mark - any mark - the more recalcitrant he grew, with a steadfastness that continues to mystify me. He seems to rebel against anything I am eager for him to experience, and the more excited about it I am, the less he is.
For an artist parent, it could not be more discouraging.
The first Saturday after school began, Peanut picked up some sidewalk chalk on the back porch, and began drawing bugs all over the concrete floor. He called me over and proudly showed me a series of large circles, filled with smaller circular spots, and bearing many legs. "Ladybugs," he explained. "And spiders."
I called MRB over and we both enthused effusively. Peanut beamed.
Since then he has spent many minutes drawing in the playroom, using markers and crayons on construction paper. More bugs, sunflowers, sunshine - and, with my assistance, butterflies, cars, robots and birds.
It is both encouraging and frustrating to see how well he is doing. That the abilities are there, waiting to be coaxed out, and that they come out so quickly under a teacher's guidance - this thrills me. And yet - why was I not able to coax them out myself? Why does he fight me, refuse my help, push back my suggestions? There are so many things about homeschooling that are appealing - but if he will not learn from me, whatever the reason, it's impossible. And it makes my heart ache, but I realize I may have to let go of my dreams of learning alongside him, of being the guide as he explores the wonders of the world. My job is to give him what he needs, and if what he needs is an authority other than myself to govern his education - so be it.
But meanwhile, we have this year. And I have a little boy who, at last, will draw with me.
For now, that's enough.
