L. attends a most awesome nursery school. Run by our local school district in conjunction with special funding from a state program called E.C.F.E., it is a nurturing place where she has blossomed. We've taken part in the classes offered in our community ever since we landed in Minnesota in 2003. I am an East Coast transplant, and when we moved to MN in order for my husband to continue his never-ending schooling at a most important hospital here, I never dreamed that anything would tie me to this place. But L.'s school did exactly that.
This has been her first year of "schooling," though. While we attended classes that were a morning here and a morning there, this year our program runs September to May and consists of two afternoons each week: on Tuesdays, we all attend. T. goes to a sibling class, I spend about 45 minutes in the age-group classroom with L., and then I attend a facilitated parents' group. Thursday afternoons are L.'s drop-off days.
Tomorrow, we have our first ever parent-teacher conference. How weird. So I say to Dirk,
"Tomorrow I have a parent-teacher conference at L.'s school. What do you think about that?"
To which he replied,
"I hope you do okay."
2 comments:
I'm proud of my bean. I miss her face. I knew she'd be perfect.
Dropped grandma off this morning. Wee.
Aw, you'll do fine! No, as a teacher, I do know that parent teacher conferences make parents nervous. Shit, I'd be nervous. I will be nervous when my time comes. But what can they say at a pre-school?
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