Whitman

Grace on her – and my! – first day at CES, September 2004.

Today was the last day that I dropped off and picked up a child at CES. Grace started at the age of one (she turned two the next month) in the fall of 2004 and I’ve had a child in either school or summer camp there continuously for five years. Wow! Whit was born when Grace was in the red room, which the lovely receptionist remembered today as I said goodbye, tears pouring down my face (oh I am a sentimental, mushy soul!).

CES has been a magic place for my children. Grace was there for three years and Whit for two. I participated in the community as well, serving on the board for two years, one on the executive committee, and chairing the search committee for a new director during a third year.

The school combines an incredibly thoughtful, almost academic approach to early childhood education (most of the teachers have graduate degrees and many years of service) with an infectious atmosphere of joyful play. There was not a single day that either of my children didn’t bound into the building, thoroughly excited about what lay ahead.

I’ve had a child in five of the school’s six classrooms and there hasn’t been a weak teaching team in the bunch. I think a first school experience is all about teaching a child that school, and learning, are fun and something to pursue with gusto. There is no question that CES instilled this belief in both Grace and Whit and for that I am deeply thankful.

Each year I felt as though all three classroom teachers truly knew and loved my child. The parent-teacher conferences were mostly very articulate, with detailed feedback and wonderful, rich stories of how Grace or Whit participated in their various activities. The concerns about Whit’s speech and all of the question marks that raised were handled delicately and supportively; I always felt as though the school was entirely behind us as I evaluated him. As an aside, it seems amazing that I worried that he was not talking enough. He. Will. Not. Stop. Talking.

The school has wonderful traditions; each child has a pattern, each year, and within weeks even the 2 year olds know their own and all of their classmates’ patterns. This clear pre-reading practice is handled with a gossamer lightness, and the children think it is special and fun. They have an identity and a place in their classroom, marked by their pattern. The pattern accompanies all of their various names (on the job board, on the cubbies, etc) as well as covers a small square pillow that they take home at the end of the year. Both Grace and Whit still use and cherish their CES pillows. I think I will recognized all five of their patterns for the rest of my life. There is a weekly informal assembly, and many school songs that I learned in 2004 and will likely recall the words to forever. I can’t count how many assemblies ended up with me in tears.

I am wistful today not only because it represents the end of a phase of my children’s childhood, but also for the very real loss of a community and school that meant a lot to me. CES is a truly wonderful place and I feel immensely fortunate that my children had their first school experience there. There is truth behind the adage that the community recites, with raised eyebrows, for the first time at the new parent welcoming event in September and then, frequently, throughout the year: no school ever lives up to CES. That is a reality both happy and sad.
Whit on his (also my) last day at CES, August 2009