On Monday we went to her very first School Open House. We got to meet her teacher, Mrs. Sorrells, and decided that we should enroll her in Spanish class. The class is taught by a woman who Steve had 2 of her daughters in class; the time was perfect to help me get to work on time (new job teaching water aerobics!); and we thought it would be helpful for her to have exposure to a second language so early in her life. She has been listening to my Italian CD's in the car for a while and so far I am realizing that Spanish is a lot like Italian! So I'm actually going to add learning Spanish on livemocha as well as Italian.
Anyway, as of this writing Emer has had 4 days of preschool. The first day (shown above) she was so excited and just walked into the room. She wanted to show me her cubby. We had found the cubby at Open House but Ems wanted me to know she remembered where it was. She then settled in playing with playdoh. On the drive to school had I taught her a few simple schools rules which she kindly repeated to Mrs. Sorrells. Apparently we were spot-on b/c Mrs. Sorrells gave me a big thumbs up and a Thank You before I left!
Day Two we began Spanish. We were a couple minutes late (8:30 is more difficult to get to school than 9:05!) and Emer was a little confused. We had talked about how her Spanish teacher would walk her to Mrs. Sorrells' room after Spanish but she was not sure about being left in this class. She was crying when I left. It was heartbreaking! I did call later that morning, though, and was assured that she had settled down quickly and Mrs. Sorrells hadn't known anything about her being upset.
Day Three began with Spanish again. Emer was a little reluctant and hesitant but her teacher took her by the hand and led her into class. She seemed fine and later told me she learned "Buenas Nochas" today!
Day Four - While I was talking to Virginia (we asked what to call the Spanish teacher) Emer gave me a hug and kiss and walked past us into the room. I think she likes it there!
I'm stronger writing this now than I was that first day. I literally had tears in my eyes driving her there and had to fight to hold them back as I left the school. The whole drive I was picturing her as a college kid and thinking how it wouldn't be that long from now that I would be driving her to some college and dropping her off at a dorm. Why can't life slow down? Ug, why do we wish it away as kid, especially as a teen, and then wish for it to slow down as an adult? I distinctly remember being a kid and having adults in my life telling me to stop wishing away life. It's a cycle that never ends, I suppose...and it has begun again with my Emerson.
