Anatomy of the first day of pre-school

This past week was the start to the school year at a German-immersion pre-school I substitute for. I was lucky enough to be there the first few days and remembering the rite of passage that beginning preschool truly is. Allow me to guide you through Day 1, focusing the camera on one particular boy, who I will call Jake.

Scene 1: 9:35a.m. Daddy has just left. Jake is inconsolable, his body rigid, laying face down on the floor, crying to the point of shrieking. A teacher approaches him to rub his back. He kicks her away.

Scene 2: 9:40a.m. Having observed that nothing has changed, the teacher returns and takes Jake into her lab, despite his protests. He continues to cry, but seems to appreciate the comfort.

Scene 3: 9:50a.m. The teacher comes to me: "Your turn?" Jake is not crying anymore, but is still visibly upset. He buries his head in my shoulder, crying "Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy..." continuously, breaking only the breathe. I make a bee-line to the train table.

Scene 4: 10:00a.m. The train table. Two other boys are playing there already. At first, Jake has no interest. I stay with him on my lap, talking to the other boys and laying out tracks with them. Jake quiets and watches for about thirty seconds. I pick up another piece of the train track and ask, "Jake, where do you think this train track should go?" He eyes me, and he eyes the track and he eyes the table with the larger track being built. Without saying anything, he takes the track from me, walks to the other side of the table, and places it down on the table. He comes back to the bucket, and I ask, "Do you want to add another one? Pick one out of the basket." And we're off.

Scene 5: 10:30a.m. Jake is still at the train table. I have checked in on him about every 5 minutes or so, and each time, I am more confident: Today is the first day of preschool. And we're ok.