Kindergarten Ahoy!

A few years ago I was at the very early stages of the NYC private preschool application process.  (A process so anxiety driven and dissected I feel like I should give it italics or place it in a levitating font.)  It was so early in the process that my husband and I hadn’t yet been subjected to interviews, or our daughter the “observations” that can make or break an incoming toddler. 

(True story: one friend’s son had a disastrous observation at a very well known and well regarded private [for kindergarten].  When the kids were instructed to do something specific [I can’t remember what], he instead decided to build a tower.  He was later rejected from the school and my friend learned through back channels that her four-year-old wasn’t deemed “X-School Material” as he wasn’t a good team player.  “But he was showing architectural tendencies!” she yelled.  No dice.  Shut out from the upper echelon privates, they packed up and headed to the west coast.  But I digress.)

Anyway, as the "2’s" application process was just beginning for us, I learned I was pregnant with kid #2.  Life in the ‘hood was swell with one, but two was a deal breaker.  My husband got his biggest wish at the time—my agreement to leave our super cramped 800 square foot third-floor walkup on a bus route (it had great light!), and we honed in on Westport.  I signed up at a terrific preschool (tour only—no interview required!), and away we went.

I can’t remember how many houses we looked at, but there were a lot.  A LOT.  And for some reason my husband (I’ll call him “P” as you, my internet friend, and I are still just superficially acquainted) was acutely interested in two specific neighborhoods, and two specific elementary schools.  After a modest amount of negotiating drama, we found a home in one of those two preselected areas, which placed us right where P wanted, elementary-wise.  Now don’t ask me what my husband knew about Westport’s elementaries.  I don’t know what type of research he did, or whether our realtor (a native Westporter) offered input, but P knew exactly what he wanted.

Fast forward through three years.  We’ve known a handful of children to start at “our” elementary with great success and adulation.   I met a current kindergartner on New Year’s Eve who smiled so big I thought I’d accidentally promised her Justin Bieber tickets when I asked her how much she liked her teacher.   All signs pointed to P’s geographic intuition as being right on.  So you can imagine my excitement when I went down today to register my oldest for kindergarten.  Kindergarten!  She’s five now!  And ready to ride the bus, like yesterday!   I wish I could have taken a picture of her face when I let her know she’s all signed up for next year.  But then again, she was hugging me so hard it would have been difficult to get the right angle; and I suppose it’s burned into my brain, which is better.