My household had a special guest this past weekend.
She stayed at our home from Friday until Monday, didn’t say a word and didn’t eat a thing.
Technically, she’s been extinct for more than 100 million years, except for that brief time period Steven Spielberg and Michael Crichton brought her species back during “Jurassic Park” and its horrible sequels.
Our guest was a plush dinosaur named Sarah, and she belongs to my son Braden’s 4-year-old kindergarten classroom at the Stevens Point Christian Academy.
Each weekend Sarah goes home with a student in the class, and all adventures Sarah takes with that student and his or her family is supposed to be recorded in a journal that accompanies the dinosaur.
Earlier in the week my wife, Jenny, and I heard rumors Sarah would be coming home with Braden for the weekend, although those rumors originated with Braden, and trusting a 4-year-old about exciting news is something that should be done with caution, because in his mind everything should be exciting and taking place as soon as possible.
That’s why we are going to wait until we’re at the airport in January to let him know we’re going to Disney World in Florida. We made the mistake of telling him several months ago we would be going back to Wisconsin Dells in October, and now every day we receive dozens of the same inquiries from him: “When are we going to the hotel with the big bucket?”
The “hotel with the big bucket” is The Wilderness, and the bucket he is referring to is literally a big bucket in two of the water parks there that dumps hundreds of gallons of water on people below it every few minutes after it fills up. The bucket completely fascinates him, although he’s too scared to actually stand under it.
Since we don’t want a “big bucket” scenario while waiting for Florida, and also since we haven’t officially booked it yet, telling Braden about Florida isn’t an option. Fortunately, having Sarah at our house provided enough excitement for him last weekend that we didn’t hear about the “hotel with the big bucket” that much.
Sarah went on several adventures with Braden during the weekend. We took the dinosaur to Harvest Fest and Art in the Park in Stevens Point on Saturday, but the real fun came later that day when Jenny and I handed Braden and Sarah off to Grandma and Grandpa Timm who live near Pine River in Waushara County.
With his grandparents, Braden and the dinosaur went to the West Bloomfield tractor pull. There they had the joy of watching tractors pull something called the “Eliminator,” a name that sounds much more exciting than the actual thing. ZZ Top named an album “Eliminator” and I have a feeling James Cameron switched the name of his classic film “The Terminator” from “The Eliminator” after he realized star Arnold Schwarzenegger sounded much cooler saying “Terminator” than “Eliminator.” Maybe this name could be brought back for the next sequel: “Terminator: Eliminator” sounds like a must-see film.
The next morning Braden and Sarah went to church and Sunday school with Grandma and Grandpa Timm, and afterward they ate at the church during a pot-luck social. I’m pretty sure Sarah didn’t socialize much, but from what I understand Braden let everyone know about his bathroom endeavor in announcing it to Grandma Timm. Nothing is more social than telling the people you’re with that you have to go No. 2.
By the time Braden and Sarah made it back home Sunday evening, both were No. 2ed out. Before going to bed Jenny helped Braden write in Sarah’s journal, letting his class know all about Sarah’s adventures.
They probably didn’t know she would have one last adventure – making it to the pages of The Portage County Gazette.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Pet peeves must serve some purpose
When did we become a nation of cud chewers?
I’m referring to the seemingly millions of people who don’t know how to chew gum.
Everywhere I go, especially a certain chain store, it seems most everyone has a big wad of gum in their mouth, and their chompers go up and down on it, showing everyone not just their teeth and tongue, but also their tonsils and other things in their mouth I don’t want to see.
I know, it’s a stupid pet peeve I should learn how to get rid of, but for some reason I can’t shake it. I find it disgusting, appalling and rude, and it takes every bit of my energy to keep myself refrained from telling the cud chewers to either close their mouths or spit it out.
It’s particularly irritating at that certain chain store because it seems like it’s the employees doing the cud chewing. When I worked at that store many years ago, our managers told us it wasn’t allowed, because it’s unprofessional and gross. I guess it’s acceptable now, because even the managers appear to be cud chewing.
I understand the desire to have fresh, clean breath, but seriously, buy a Tic Tac or a mint. It’s more effective and less gross.
Yes, I sound like a grouchy old man when it comes to gum chewing, but a big part of me thinks this society has lost its pride in itself, and people chewing gum like cows chewing cud is a reflection of this belief.
Honestly, I wish it didn’t bother me, but for some reason it does. I guess that’s why it’s a pet peeve. If someone has a cure for them, I would love a dose of that medicine, because I have other pet peeves – people yawning wide enough to land Air Force One in their mouths, bad drivers and loud cell phone talkers – I’d love to get rid of.
My wife, Jenny, would also appreciate it if I eliminated my disdain for these pet peeves, as she often feels the brunt of their displeasure for me. If she yawns, I roll my eyes. If she chews gum, and she does chew it respectfully, I get annoyed. If someone else annoys me with a pet peeve, I’ll make under-the-breath comments that she tells me to stop. Her biggest pet peeve is probably my lack of tolerance for my pet peeves.
It used to be my lack of ability to fold a towel correctly, but I learned how to do it. In return, I developed a pet peeve about her lack of ability to put a towel back on the rack correctly for reuse. She’ll throw it on the rack all bunched up, and as a result it’s often wet and kind of gross.
She laughs at me when I tell her she should learn how to put it on the rack correctly, but she keeps doing it because she knows it doesn’t really bother me like my other pet peeves. And in reality, it doesn’t. That’s what a fresh towel is for.
But I truly can’t stand my other pet peeves. I’m cringing in my mind just writing this column and thinking about them.
Mankind is probably meant to have pet peeves, so we can correct the things we do wrong. At least that’s what I’d like to believe. I would love it if a certain chain store’s manager would come to the realization the employees there look unprofessional chewing gum because of mine or someone else’s pet peeve. I know that probably would never happen, but it gives me hope my pet peeves serve some purpose besides annoying me.
And then this nation of cud chewers and wide yawners could show a little pride in itself.
In all fairness to Jenny, she asked for an opportunity to respond. This is what my wife had to say:
“I concur that my pet peeves generally surround Scott’s inability to deal with his pet peeves in a manner that is less than curmudgeonly. I enjoy chewing gum, but have virtually abandoned it in an attempt to avoid marriage counseling over a seemingly small issue that clearly disturbs my husband a great deal. As a result, towels are used as passive-aggressive response to fill the void in my life that was once filled by gum chewing. I take some small personal satisfaction in his grumbling over damp towels as I mourn the loss of my gum. I request all readers to please forgo gum chewing while in Scott’s presence, not for his sake, but rather for my sanity, as I will hear about it.”
I’m referring to the seemingly millions of people who don’t know how to chew gum.
Everywhere I go, especially a certain chain store, it seems most everyone has a big wad of gum in their mouth, and their chompers go up and down on it, showing everyone not just their teeth and tongue, but also their tonsils and other things in their mouth I don’t want to see.
I know, it’s a stupid pet peeve I should learn how to get rid of, but for some reason I can’t shake it. I find it disgusting, appalling and rude, and it takes every bit of my energy to keep myself refrained from telling the cud chewers to either close their mouths or spit it out.
It’s particularly irritating at that certain chain store because it seems like it’s the employees doing the cud chewing. When I worked at that store many years ago, our managers told us it wasn’t allowed, because it’s unprofessional and gross. I guess it’s acceptable now, because even the managers appear to be cud chewing.
I understand the desire to have fresh, clean breath, but seriously, buy a Tic Tac or a mint. It’s more effective and less gross.
Yes, I sound like a grouchy old man when it comes to gum chewing, but a big part of me thinks this society has lost its pride in itself, and people chewing gum like cows chewing cud is a reflection of this belief.
Honestly, I wish it didn’t bother me, but for some reason it does. I guess that’s why it’s a pet peeve. If someone has a cure for them, I would love a dose of that medicine, because I have other pet peeves – people yawning wide enough to land Air Force One in their mouths, bad drivers and loud cell phone talkers – I’d love to get rid of.
My wife, Jenny, would also appreciate it if I eliminated my disdain for these pet peeves, as she often feels the brunt of their displeasure for me. If she yawns, I roll my eyes. If she chews gum, and she does chew it respectfully, I get annoyed. If someone else annoys me with a pet peeve, I’ll make under-the-breath comments that she tells me to stop. Her biggest pet peeve is probably my lack of tolerance for my pet peeves.
It used to be my lack of ability to fold a towel correctly, but I learned how to do it. In return, I developed a pet peeve about her lack of ability to put a towel back on the rack correctly for reuse. She’ll throw it on the rack all bunched up, and as a result it’s often wet and kind of gross.
She laughs at me when I tell her she should learn how to put it on the rack correctly, but she keeps doing it because she knows it doesn’t really bother me like my other pet peeves. And in reality, it doesn’t. That’s what a fresh towel is for.
But I truly can’t stand my other pet peeves. I’m cringing in my mind just writing this column and thinking about them.
Mankind is probably meant to have pet peeves, so we can correct the things we do wrong. At least that’s what I’d like to believe. I would love it if a certain chain store’s manager would come to the realization the employees there look unprofessional chewing gum because of mine or someone else’s pet peeve. I know that probably would never happen, but it gives me hope my pet peeves serve some purpose besides annoying me.
And then this nation of cud chewers and wide yawners could show a little pride in itself.
In all fairness to Jenny, she asked for an opportunity to respond. This is what my wife had to say:
“I concur that my pet peeves generally surround Scott’s inability to deal with his pet peeves in a manner that is less than curmudgeonly. I enjoy chewing gum, but have virtually abandoned it in an attempt to avoid marriage counseling over a seemingly small issue that clearly disturbs my husband a great deal. As a result, towels are used as passive-aggressive response to fill the void in my life that was once filled by gum chewing. I take some small personal satisfaction in his grumbling over damp towels as I mourn the loss of my gum. I request all readers to please forgo gum chewing while in Scott’s presence, not for his sake, but rather for my sanity, as I will hear about it.”
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Beatlemania returns with hefty price tag
Fans of The Beatles had a lot to look forward to this week, but those fans who are also fans of money were put in a major dilemma where one of their loves had to be put on the backseat.
Even though John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr last performed together as a band 40 years ago, and two of them – Lennon and Harrison – are dead, Beatlemania pops up every few years, usually the result of some sort of new Beatle-related merchandise, film, television special or new album that becomes available.
The last time this happened was in 2000 when “1,” an album featuring 27 of their No. 1 hits, was released. Since then it’s sold more than 10 million copies, making it the best-selling album of the decade, a remarkable fact that attests to the group’s popularity.
This time Beatlemania can be attributed to the release of remastered CDs of their 14 albums. With a crisper and fuller sound than the original CDs that came out in 1987, the new versions should leave thousands of people happy who have been clamoring for better-sounding versions for decades now.
A videogame, “The Beatles: Rock Band,” released on the same day as the CDs, is also stirring up Beatlemania. It’s the first videogame to feature the legendary rock band, and like some of the other popular music videogames, people can “play” along to Beatles’ songs on fake, plastic guitars and fake, plastic drums while singing the songs on real, albeit not loud, microphones.
Both items come with hefty price tags. A box set containing all of the remastered CDs retails for approximately $200, while the videogame sells for $60. Experts are predicting the two surviving Beatles, and the widows of the dead ones, will make $1.6 billion from the two items.
That’s enough to run a small nation, or a fairly large hamburger stand in a large nation like this one.
The Beatles, and I love them to death, probably won’t get any of my money, as I can’t justify spending that much on CDs I already own or on a videogame that would be fun for a while but would probably get old fast.
It would be nice to have better-sounding Beatles’ CDs, but my stereo speakers are small and don’t have the power to make them sound any better than my now out-of-date Beatles’ CDs. If I had that type of extra cash lying around, I’d buy new speakers, but then I wouldn’t have any money to buy the new CDs. I’d be stuck listening to weak CDs on a good system, which is just as bad as listening to good CDs on a bad system.
Besides, the place I listen to the most music is at work in front of my computer, and those speakers, which are connected to my iPod, are computer speakers, which are even worse than my stereo speakers.
The only place the new CDs would make any difference to me would be in my car, and even then I usually have a 4-year-old in the vehicle who prefers Tom Petty, an artist greatly influenced by The Beatles. I can’t win.
I might rent “The Beatles: Rock Band,” and hopefully I can beat it during the span of a five-day rental. I’d be happy, although The Beatles and widows might miss the $60 I would have spent buying the game.
But as a bigger fan of money, I’m going to wait another few years for the next Beatlemania merchandise to appear. I dished out money in the 1990s for the “Anthology” series, although I haven’t listened to any of those CDs in more than 10 years, but I could be inspired to spend a few Beatles’ bucks again, for the right product.
Or maybe for a reunion concert. Granted, that would be hard for them to do, but technology may find a way to bring John and George back in some sort of creepy way. It might have to bring all four back if it’s not invented any time soon.
But it might keep Beatlemania around forever. That wouldn’t be a bad thing; just an expensive one.
Even though John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr last performed together as a band 40 years ago, and two of them – Lennon and Harrison – are dead, Beatlemania pops up every few years, usually the result of some sort of new Beatle-related merchandise, film, television special or new album that becomes available.
The last time this happened was in 2000 when “1,” an album featuring 27 of their No. 1 hits, was released. Since then it’s sold more than 10 million copies, making it the best-selling album of the decade, a remarkable fact that attests to the group’s popularity.
This time Beatlemania can be attributed to the release of remastered CDs of their 14 albums. With a crisper and fuller sound than the original CDs that came out in 1987, the new versions should leave thousands of people happy who have been clamoring for better-sounding versions for decades now.
A videogame, “The Beatles: Rock Band,” released on the same day as the CDs, is also stirring up Beatlemania. It’s the first videogame to feature the legendary rock band, and like some of the other popular music videogames, people can “play” along to Beatles’ songs on fake, plastic guitars and fake, plastic drums while singing the songs on real, albeit not loud, microphones.
Both items come with hefty price tags. A box set containing all of the remastered CDs retails for approximately $200, while the videogame sells for $60. Experts are predicting the two surviving Beatles, and the widows of the dead ones, will make $1.6 billion from the two items.
That’s enough to run a small nation, or a fairly large hamburger stand in a large nation like this one.
The Beatles, and I love them to death, probably won’t get any of my money, as I can’t justify spending that much on CDs I already own or on a videogame that would be fun for a while but would probably get old fast.
It would be nice to have better-sounding Beatles’ CDs, but my stereo speakers are small and don’t have the power to make them sound any better than my now out-of-date Beatles’ CDs. If I had that type of extra cash lying around, I’d buy new speakers, but then I wouldn’t have any money to buy the new CDs. I’d be stuck listening to weak CDs on a good system, which is just as bad as listening to good CDs on a bad system.
Besides, the place I listen to the most music is at work in front of my computer, and those speakers, which are connected to my iPod, are computer speakers, which are even worse than my stereo speakers.
The only place the new CDs would make any difference to me would be in my car, and even then I usually have a 4-year-old in the vehicle who prefers Tom Petty, an artist greatly influenced by The Beatles. I can’t win.
I might rent “The Beatles: Rock Band,” and hopefully I can beat it during the span of a five-day rental. I’d be happy, although The Beatles and widows might miss the $60 I would have spent buying the game.
But as a bigger fan of money, I’m going to wait another few years for the next Beatlemania merchandise to appear. I dished out money in the 1990s for the “Anthology” series, although I haven’t listened to any of those CDs in more than 10 years, but I could be inspired to spend a few Beatles’ bucks again, for the right product.
Or maybe for a reunion concert. Granted, that would be hard for them to do, but technology may find a way to bring John and George back in some sort of creepy way. It might have to bring all four back if it’s not invented any time soon.
But it might keep Beatlemania around forever. That wouldn’t be a bad thing; just an expensive one.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
New clothes, crying part of back-to-school ritual for some parents
I took my 4-year-old son, Braden, to school for the first time, kind of, Tuesday, Sept. 1.
I add “kind of” because his school, Canaland Christian Academy and Daycare, is the same one he’s been going to for the past two years, so the change wasn’t that big for him nor my wife, Jenny, and me.
Now, instead of attending the daycare portion exclusively, for two hours a day he attends 4-year-old Kindergarten (4K) at the Academy through the Stevens Point Area School District.
This means a licensed teacher provides classroom curriculum to Braden designed to help him learn some of the basics I didn’t learn until my second year in kindergarten.
Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m a kindergarten flunkey.
I like to think my parents were attempting to start the 4K trend well before the age of 4K, because I was only 4 when I started school in the late 1970s, when most of my peers were 5. But in reality I know I probably wasn’t a trendsetter, but rather one of the reasons a law was passed restricting kids from starting school too early.
It’s a good law, as I recall little about my first day of school on my first attempt at kindergarten. In fact, I don’t remember much about that first year, except crying a lot. My shoes are knotted: waaaahh; I can’t use the scissors correctly: waaahh; you want me to repeat the alphabet: waaahh; one through 10, not a problem, but after that: waaahh.
I’m sure it was a miserable experience, but fortunately I’ve repressed most of those memories and hope I never have to pay a psychologist to bring them back.
My second attempt at kindergarten was a treat, though. The things I failed to learn the first time around were a breeze the second time. I shot to the head of the class where I usually remained for the rest of my academic career, proving those formative years are likely the most important in a child’s life, even if the instruction he or she is given is so basic.
It’s my hope 4K will help Braden with the basics like my failed attempt at kindergarten helped me, so next year when he’s in kindergarten he’ll be the Albert Einstein of the classroom. I’m sure all of the parents are hoping for the same thing, though, so I’ll settle for the Stephen Hawking, just to be a little more original.
Getting him started on this endeavor began in the stores, as Jenny did the shopping for his school supplies and new clothes. I never understood the whole “buy new clothes” thing for going back to school, as the clothes he has been wearing all summer are still suitable for wearing to school.
But nearly everyone does it for their kids. When one of Braden’s teachers told me “It seems like everyone has new shoes today” after Braden pointed out to her that he was wearing new shoes, she was making an observation that couldn’t be anymore true. Each kid, no matter how grubby he or she normally is, looks like the All-American Kid that first day.
Perhaps it would be wiser to put your kid in news clothes and shoes the week after school starts, and then more people would notice, if that’s your goal. Of course, people might think your kid is a dirtball that first week, and initial impressions are defining no matter whether or not they are correct. But if that doesn’t bother you, I say wait a week. You’d probably find better deals on clothing at the store anyway.
As confused as I am about having to put a child in new clothes the first day of school, I’m even more confused about why parents cry when they take kids to school for the first time. It’s cause for celebration, especially if it reduces daycare expenses.
That doesn’t happen to us this year, as the amount of time in 4K is limited, but next year when he starts kindergarten our childcare expenses will virtually disappear. Jenny and I may have to take the day off and have some sort of daycare bill-burning party.
Maybe the parents who cry are just too happy about this, so maybe I’ll be crying, too. Unless Braden is too much like me and flunks 4K. Then my tears will be the tears of one more year of childcare.
I add “kind of” because his school, Canaland Christian Academy and Daycare, is the same one he’s been going to for the past two years, so the change wasn’t that big for him nor my wife, Jenny, and me.
Now, instead of attending the daycare portion exclusively, for two hours a day he attends 4-year-old Kindergarten (4K) at the Academy through the Stevens Point Area School District.
This means a licensed teacher provides classroom curriculum to Braden designed to help him learn some of the basics I didn’t learn until my second year in kindergarten.
Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m a kindergarten flunkey.
I like to think my parents were attempting to start the 4K trend well before the age of 4K, because I was only 4 when I started school in the late 1970s, when most of my peers were 5. But in reality I know I probably wasn’t a trendsetter, but rather one of the reasons a law was passed restricting kids from starting school too early.
It’s a good law, as I recall little about my first day of school on my first attempt at kindergarten. In fact, I don’t remember much about that first year, except crying a lot. My shoes are knotted: waaaahh; I can’t use the scissors correctly: waaahh; you want me to repeat the alphabet: waaahh; one through 10, not a problem, but after that: waaahh.
I’m sure it was a miserable experience, but fortunately I’ve repressed most of those memories and hope I never have to pay a psychologist to bring them back.
My second attempt at kindergarten was a treat, though. The things I failed to learn the first time around were a breeze the second time. I shot to the head of the class where I usually remained for the rest of my academic career, proving those formative years are likely the most important in a child’s life, even if the instruction he or she is given is so basic.
It’s my hope 4K will help Braden with the basics like my failed attempt at kindergarten helped me, so next year when he’s in kindergarten he’ll be the Albert Einstein of the classroom. I’m sure all of the parents are hoping for the same thing, though, so I’ll settle for the Stephen Hawking, just to be a little more original.
Getting him started on this endeavor began in the stores, as Jenny did the shopping for his school supplies and new clothes. I never understood the whole “buy new clothes” thing for going back to school, as the clothes he has been wearing all summer are still suitable for wearing to school.
But nearly everyone does it for their kids. When one of Braden’s teachers told me “It seems like everyone has new shoes today” after Braden pointed out to her that he was wearing new shoes, she was making an observation that couldn’t be anymore true. Each kid, no matter how grubby he or she normally is, looks like the All-American Kid that first day.
Perhaps it would be wiser to put your kid in news clothes and shoes the week after school starts, and then more people would notice, if that’s your goal. Of course, people might think your kid is a dirtball that first week, and initial impressions are defining no matter whether or not they are correct. But if that doesn’t bother you, I say wait a week. You’d probably find better deals on clothing at the store anyway.
As confused as I am about having to put a child in new clothes the first day of school, I’m even more confused about why parents cry when they take kids to school for the first time. It’s cause for celebration, especially if it reduces daycare expenses.
That doesn’t happen to us this year, as the amount of time in 4K is limited, but next year when he starts kindergarten our childcare expenses will virtually disappear. Jenny and I may have to take the day off and have some sort of daycare bill-burning party.
Maybe the parents who cry are just too happy about this, so maybe I’ll be crying, too. Unless Braden is too much like me and flunks 4K. Then my tears will be the tears of one more year of childcare.
New clothes, crying part of back to school ritual for some parents
I took my 4-year-old son, Braden, to school for the first time, kind of, Tuesday, Sept. 1.
I add “kind of” because his school, Canaland Christian Academy and Daycare, is the same one he’s been going to for the past two years, so the change wasn’t that big for him nor my wife, Jenny, and me.
Now, instead of attending the daycare portion exclusively, for two hours a day he attends 4-year-old Kindergarten (4K) at the Academy through the Stevens Point Area School District.
This means a licensed teacher provides classroom curriculum to Braden designed to help him learn some of the basics I didn’t learn until my second year in kindergarten.
Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m a kindergarten flunkey.
I like to think my parents were attempting to start the 4K trend well before the age of 4K, because I was only 4 when I started school in the late 1970s, when most of my peers were 5. But in reality I know I probably wasn’t a trendsetter, but rather one of the reasons a law was passed restricting kids from starting school too early.
It’s a good law, as I recall little about my first day of school on my first attempt at kindergarten. In fact, I don’t remember much about that first year, except crying a lot. My shoes are knotted: waaaahh; I can’t use the scissors correctly: waaahh; you want me to repeat the alphabet: waaahh; one through 10, not a problem, but after that: waaahh.
I’m sure it was a miserable experience, but fortunately I’ve repressed most of those memories and hope I never have to pay a psychologist to bring them back.
My second attempt at kindergarten was a treat, though. The things I failed to learn the first time around were a breeze the second time. I shot to the head of the class where I usually remained for the rest of my academic career, proving those formative years are likely the most important in a child’s life, even if the instruction he or she is given is so basic.
It’s my hope 4K will help Braden with the basics like my failed attempt at kindergarten helped me, so next year when he’s in kindergarten he’ll be the Albert Einstein of the classroom. I’m sure all of the parents are hoping for the same thing, though, so I’ll settle for the Stephen Hawking, just to be a little more original.
Getting him started on this endeavor began in the stores, as Jenny did the shopping for his school supplies and new clothes. I never understood the whole “buy new clothes” thing for going back to school, as the clothes he has been wearing all summer are still suitable for wearing to school.
But nearly everyone does it for their kids. When one of Braden’s teachers told me “It seems like everyone has new shoes today” after Braden pointed out to her that he was wearing new shoes, she was making an observation that couldn’t be anymore true. Each kid, no matter how grubby he or she normally is, looks like the All-American Kid that first day.
Perhaps it would be wiser to put your kid in news clothes and shoes the week after school starts, and then more people would notice, if that’s your goal. Of course, people might think your kid is a dirtball that first week, and initial impressions are defining no matter whether or not they are correct. But if that doesn’t bother you, I say wait a week. You’d probably find better deals on clothing at the store anyway.
As confused as I am about having to put a child in new clothes the first day of school, I’m even more confused about why parents cry when they take kids to school for the first time. It’s cause for celebration, especially if it reduces daycare expenses.
That doesn’t happen to us this year, as the amount of time in 4K is limited, but next year when he starts kindergarten our childcare expenses will virtually disappear. Jenny and I may have to take the day off and have some sort of daycare bill-burning party.
Maybe the parents who cry are just too happy about this, so maybe I’ll be crying, too. Unless Braden is too much like me and flunks 4K. Then my tears will be the tears of one more year of childcare.
I add “kind of” because his school, Canaland Christian Academy and Daycare, is the same one he’s been going to for the past two years, so the change wasn’t that big for him nor my wife, Jenny, and me.
Now, instead of attending the daycare portion exclusively, for two hours a day he attends 4-year-old Kindergarten (4K) at the Academy through the Stevens Point Area School District.
This means a licensed teacher provides classroom curriculum to Braden designed to help him learn some of the basics I didn’t learn until my second year in kindergarten.
Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m a kindergarten flunkey.
I like to think my parents were attempting to start the 4K trend well before the age of 4K, because I was only 4 when I started school in the late 1970s, when most of my peers were 5. But in reality I know I probably wasn’t a trendsetter, but rather one of the reasons a law was passed restricting kids from starting school too early.
It’s a good law, as I recall little about my first day of school on my first attempt at kindergarten. In fact, I don’t remember much about that first year, except crying a lot. My shoes are knotted: waaaahh; I can’t use the scissors correctly: waaahh; you want me to repeat the alphabet: waaahh; one through 10, not a problem, but after that: waaahh.
I’m sure it was a miserable experience, but fortunately I’ve repressed most of those memories and hope I never have to pay a psychologist to bring them back.
My second attempt at kindergarten was a treat, though. The things I failed to learn the first time around were a breeze the second time. I shot to the head of the class where I usually remained for the rest of my academic career, proving those formative years are likely the most important in a child’s life, even if the instruction he or she is given is so basic.
It’s my hope 4K will help Braden with the basics like my failed attempt at kindergarten helped me, so next year when he’s in kindergarten he’ll be the Albert Einstein of the classroom. I’m sure all of the parents are hoping for the same thing, though, so I’ll settle for the Stephen Hawking, just to be a little more original.
Getting him started on this endeavor began in the stores, as Jenny did the shopping for his school supplies and new clothes. I never understood the whole “buy new clothes” thing for going back to school, as the clothes he has been wearing all summer are still suitable for wearing to school.
But nearly everyone does it for their kids. When one of Braden’s teachers told me “It seems like everyone has new shoes today” after Braden pointed out to her that he was wearing new shoes, she was making an observation that couldn’t be anymore true. Each kid, no matter how grubby he or she normally is, looks like the All-American Kid that first day.
Perhaps it would be wiser to put your kid in news clothes and shoes the week after school starts, and then more people would notice, if that’s your goal. Of course, people might think your kid is a dirtball that first week, and initial impressions are defining no matter whether or not they are correct. But if that doesn’t bother you, I say wait a week. You’d probably find better deals on clothing at the store anyway.
As confused as I am about having to put a child in new clothes the first day of school, I’m even more confused about why parents cry when they take kids to school for the first time. It’s cause for celebration, especially if it reduces daycare expenses.
That doesn’t happen to us this year, as the amount of time in 4K is limited, but next year when he starts kindergarten our childcare expenses will virtually disappear. Jenny and I may have to take the day off and have some sort of daycare bill-burning party.
Maybe the parents who cry are just too happy about this, so maybe I’ll be crying, too. Unless Braden is too much like me and flunks 4K. Then my tears will be the tears of one more year of childcare.
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