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A Year in Preschool (II)

 My child's teacher began the year with a wonderful introductory sentence: "I am not perfect."


I thought this was so shrewd. It seemed to suggest that the teacher had a savvy relationship with herself. She knew herself. She wasn't going to self-destruct.

The school is sort of sealed-off from parents, so Marc and I have made some educated guesses about the curriculum. I know that my son Joshua has spent a portion of the year "playing restaurant." Specifically, he wore a paper chef's hat, and he worked at a staged "faux" version of McDonald's. I'm pretty sure of this, because the hat and the golden arches came home in J's backpack--and also, J goes around demanding "apple cake." I believe that this is a reference to the iconic Mickey Dee version of "apple pie."

I know--also--that someone has taught "Frere Jacques" to my son. I know this because he now walks around singing, "Baby sister, baby sister: Where are you?" (And Susie simply gives him the side-eye.)

Despite all that, it's increasingly clear to me that my child's teacher has resigned or has received an "exit" slip--because her e-mail no longer works, and conferences are mysteriously evaporating from the calendar. It's deeply strange to see such an important relationship go up in smoke; indeed, I have been ghosted! Also, the school itself is pretending that the absence isn't "a thing," which makes every parent-principal exchange a little bit of a minefield.

I hope that Ms. L is OK, and I wish her well, if she is still alive.

I'll always remember the apple cake.
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