Dear Kindergarten teacher,
I’m sure you’re very nice but I don’t want to give my son to you. I don’t want him to go to kindergarten. I want to keep him with me.
I want to pick him up from preschool at noon and take him and his brothers to lunch. I want to let him run with abandon down the the big hill at the park. I want hear him singing “Frozen” lyrics at the top of his voice in the car. I want to watch his sweet face as he sleeps during his brief, but still necessary, naps. I want to keep him with me.
Kindergarten means he will begin his separation from me. He will ride the bus…without me. He will walk through the halls to get to his class…without me. He will order lunch, remember his homework, and say please and thank you…without me. He will make friends with kids I don’t know, from families I don’t know. He will fall down on the playground, be called a mean name from a classmate, or get embarrassed for not knowing the answer. And I won’t be there to help him. I won’t be there to dry his tears.
However, though I don’t want him to go to kindergarten, I know he must. He will learn independence and self-reliance and gain self-confidence. He will learn that he is capable of so much, from reading and writing to critical-thinking and friendship-making. And I know he will have fun. So much fun. Without me.
I don’t want him to go to kindergarten…but I will send him anyway. The supplies are bought. The new clothes are laid out. The lunch box is packed with some of his favorites. Please take care of my sweet boy. Tomorrow morning, I will give him to you with a smile. And I’ll try to make it to the car before the first tears fall.