A kindergarten registration email triggers a wave of nostalgia

I'm signed up to receive emails from our school district, and for the most part I find them interesting and informative (even though we only have one child left in the district).

Many aren't necessarily relevant to me, and that's OK. It only takes a second to delete them and be on my way.

One of those messages came over recently. It was a notification of how parents in the district could sign their children up for kindergarten. My first instinct, of course, was to get rid of it because, thankfully, we don't have any 5-year-olds remaining in the house.

But then I stopped and thought about kindergarten registrations and kindergarten experiences from years past. And for all the effort we as parents put in to getting our kids raised and prepared for lives out there of their own, I realized I kind of miss those days.

There was the time, for example, when I came home from work on the day Melanie was going to register for kindergarten. I excitedly asked her, "Mel, how was kindergarten registration?" This prompted a confused look from Melanie and a loud gasp from my wife, who had completely forgotten about the whole thing that day.

(In Terry's defense, her life back then was unending chaos. The fact that she even got dressed in the morning was always impressive to me. And it turned out OK, as we were able to get Mel signed up even after the official registration period, as evidenced by the fact that she did eventually graduate and all.)

I also remember our first kindergarten registration with Elissa, who quite frankly is a genius and was ready to start writing dissertations at age 5. However, one of the skills they evaluated during registration was the ability to cut with scissors, and apparently Elissa had some trouble with that.

We as young parents were of course appalled that anyone would see anything less than perfection in our little girl and were accordingly offended.

Oh the funny things you do when you're a rookie.

Then there's poor Jack, who on his first day of kindergarten got off the bus, walked into the school, realized he had no idea where to go from there, started crying, and eventually had to be rescued by a kindly school aide.

It should be noted that, a year later on the first day of first grade, Terry wanted to walk into the school with Jack to ensure he got to the right room this time, but she was not allowed to go in. And what happened? Yeah, you guessed it. He went in alone, had no idea where to go, started crying, and had to be rescued again.

Poor kid.

Your kindergarten teacher probably knew more about you than you realize

"Scott is a very mature, alert boy. He takes things too seriously and gets quite upset sometimes if he thinks he has done wrong. It is necessary that Scott not be pressured so he can relax, since he does do good work." -- Mrs. Dorothy Janes, kindergarten teacher, Mapledale Elementary School - January 29, 1976

"Scott has shown growth in his emotional stability. I have enjoyed having him in class." -- Mrs. Janes - June 11, 1976

With my mom's passing last summer, we inherited several boxes worth of photos and other memories. I didn't realize she had saved virtually every one of my report cards, including my end-of-year assessment from kindergarten.

I remember very little of this, but apparently it took me a while to get the hang of kindergarten. Actually, what took me a while to get the hang of was not immediately knowing how to do everything in kindergarten. If I got anything wrong (at all), I was on the verge of tears.

Mrs. Janes, my teacher, seemed to suspect that I was being pressured by my parents to be perfect. So she had me talk to the school psychologist. Then the psychologist talked to my mom and dad. When she found out they were two of the most laid back people you'll ever meet, she realized any pressure I was feeling was entirely self-generated, and she reported this to Mrs. Janes.

I don't remember exactly what happened next, but apparently Mrs. Janes sat me down and said, in effect, "Listen, you little freak, you have to relax. You're not going to be good at everything, and it's OK. That's why you go to school."

And from there, kindergarten was great. I didn't suddenly become Mr. Chill or anything, but I slowly began to understand that the world doesn't expect us to know everything.

My point is that it helps to have someone besides your parents who, early in life, gets you. And I'm willing to bet that, for many people, that person is your kindergarten teacher.

Teaching kindergarten is hard enough with "normal" kids. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to try and calm down little basket cases like me.

God bless the kindergarten teachers of the world. Many of us learned more than just letters, numbers, and how to tie our shoes from them (though for the record, Mrs. Janes taught me all of those things, too).