So, let’s talk about school for a minute. Mimi will be in kindergarten as of next Tuesday. Full-day kindergarten, no less, which I am of two minds about. On the one hand, yes, it keeps her busy all day, and many kids are coming into kindergarten from preschool and daycare settings where they already have a year or two of full-day care under their teeny little belts. On the other hand, she’s just so little. And she has a lunchbox and a backpack that’s almsot bigger than she is. And expectations these days are just so high, even for kindergarteners. I’m a little worried, given her anxious personality, that it’s going to stress her out. We’re in a new school district this year, of course, so I don’t know what to expect as far as curriculum or how much is expected of kindergarteners, but the fact that full-day is the norm here, with only a couple of the local elementaries even offering half-day programs, is setting off warning bells for me already. Our local elementary is not one of the ones that has a half-day program, either, so we don’t have much of a choice for Mimi, unless we want to drive her. Which, you know, we don’t. Living within walking distance of the school was one of the big pluses to this neighborhood and one of the reasons we chose this house over others we looked at.

Being of an anxious personality myself (no kidding, you say), I’ve been following the conversation over at American Family with interest. I was miserable in school, for the most part, even as far back as early elementary. I was bored in class; I was an early reader, and not very athletic, which meant I preferred to sit on the swings and read a book at recess than join in the kickball game; I used big words and was, frankly, kind of stuck-up about being smart. Needless to say, I did not fit in. And I was teased. I don’t actually remember much about my kindergarten or first grade years; we moved in the middle of first grade, however, and after that I have pretty clear memories of being the odd kid out. Of being laughed at and made fun of, for the way I talked, how I walked, and what I wore, as early as second grade. By fourth grade, I was fairly self-conscious, and by seventh, my nerd/dork fate was sealed. That’s not to say I didn’t have friends, or that I don’t have a few good memories of my school years, but for the most part, it all just sucked.

Needless to say, I don’t want that for my kids. It’s all well and good to celebrate individuality and instill in your child a sense of pride and a strong self-image, but let’s be realistic here. Kids are piranhas. Show them any sign of weakness and they will attack. I want my kids to think for themselves, but I also don’t want them to come home from school crying because someone made fun of something that I have some control over, like their clothes, hair, or what they had for lunch. I still very clearly remember the kid in my third grade class who carried one of those red Tupperware lunch boxes and brought sunflower seeds in a little cup almost every day. I have no idea what I ate for lunch in third grade, or what my lunchbox looked like, but him I remember because he was different. And he got teased about it. Maybe he didn’t care; maybe he really liked sunflower seeds and thought “screw these stupid kids, I’m going to eat my damn sunflower seeds and I don’t care what they say.” But maybe he really wanted his mom to stop sending sunflower seeds, at least sometimes, and throw in a Hostess cupcake instead. I don’t know.

I don’t fault my parents for the misery of my school experience. Honestly, I don’t think they really knew how bad it was, at least not until junior high when I came home crying more days than not and it was hard to miss. We didn’t have a lot of money but we were always clean and dressed well, if not in the most expensive and trendiest of styles. I don’t know what they could have done, really, to make it easier for me. And maybe, as they say, going through all this made me a stronger person. Maybe not. Maybe the most popular girl in school is now working at the 7-11, and the hot swimmer guys are fat and balding. But you know what? Even if that’s true, it still hurt. It left scars that I still carry. And if I can spare my kids that, even a little, then I will happily buy them pink princess shoes that light up. I will sign them up for soccer and make nice with the other moms – who I still feel like I don’t fit in with, somehow – so that they get invited to birthday parties. I’ll pack those fricking Lunchables in Disney character lunchboxes if it seems necessary, and buy rather than make Halloween costumes, and let them watch whatever tv show is the most talked about.

This is kind of new to me, because we never had to worry much about Kev in school. At least not the social aspects of it. He always has made friends quickly and easily, adapts to the environment he finds himself in, and fits in; he’s not the most popular kid, nor the least. He’s mastered the art of hanging out safely in the high middle ground. He’s athletic, and never had to worry about being teased for not wanting to play at recess. At least through elementary and middle school he was in the high middle grade-wise as well; not the smartest nor the dumbest kid in class, and safe from teasing for either of those reasons as well. He never read a book through lunch, and was more likely to be the kid flinging jello at the parent volunteer.

Mimi, though, is a different story. She’s emotionally and developmentally behind her peers, and I am not sure how that will play out in school. I’m hopeful that for kindergarten, at least, it won’t make a huge difference, but one never knows; she still has some quirks that will make her stand out, and not in a good way, even among a bunch of bumbling five-year-olds. She might have it a little rough, and that’s not even counting in the possible issues with being adopted and a minority. She did fine in pre-K, which reassures me; on the other hand, she was in a program for kids who were below the curve, developmentally speaking. There were several four-year-olds in pull-ups in that classroom, not to mention thumbsuckers, late-talkers, and those who were motor-skills-challenged. I loved those kids. I loved that she was in that class, where I didn’t have to explain to the teacher or other parents that she has some *cough*issues*cough*. They all had issues, and they were all great kids. And they probably all have parents who are freaking out, just a little, right now.

This year, however, will be different. And so I worry. And I buy princess accoutrements, trim her bangs so they don’t fall in her eyes, obsess over what to pack in her lunch that strikes a balance between healthy and something she will actually eat, hope there aren’t any fire drills the first week and that when there are the noise doesn’t freak her out too much, and try to remind myself that it’s just kindergarten, after all. It can’t be that bad. Right?

P.S. I don’t know why comments were off. Have at it. Did school suck for you? How does your school experience influence what you do — or plan to do — for your kids?