We have entered the 10th circle of hell: getting into preschool. Oy and vey, people, this is such a fun process!
When J turned three last month, I began to think idly about maybe perhaps enrolling him in a part-time preschool so he could have some interaction with someone other than me and learn a little in the process. So, naive little me, I contacted a few local preschools, just to test the waters. And I unknowingly opened a huge can of worms!
What a circus! Now, I know this is an even bigger deal in other places, with even higher stakes, but I live in a relatively tiny little town where we have very few options. There are a handful of "academic" preschools, though many of them turn out to be either not-so-glorified daycares or so expensive I can't actually look at the prices without choking. The other options are all religious preschools, connected to and run by local churches. So I find myself in the odd position of trying to decide to which other church's program to send my son, IF they have space for us. Right now my best hope is to end up on the wait lists for the programs we like and wait and see.
In the meantime, all this visiting of preschools has made me nervous about where J is right now in comparison to all these other letter-identifying, circle-sitting, well-behaved little boys and girls. ACK! So there's the added pressure of feeling like the longer we languish on these wait lists, the farther behind he will fall. Which pressure/feeling I know is RIDICULOUS, but I can't help it! Oh, I know, I could do something productive like teach him the things I fell he's lacking, but we all know teaching the under 15 set anything more than the absolute basics is just not my forte. I chose my profession for a reason, people!
But doesn't he look like a fun kid to have around! Now if I could just convince someone else of this fact!