Cute kid quote of the day: Guest starring 4-year-old Thomas

After bedtime one night last week, my friend Kathy was online in the room next to her son's when she heard:

"Mommy, come here, I need you! ...

(pause)

"Please? ...

(pause)

"Mommy? ...

(pause)

"I really need you ... because I love you!"

ME: "I love you too, sweetie, now go to sleep."

"Mommy? ...

(pause)

"I really love you because you're so beautiful! ...

(My head is now on the keyboard.)

"And you wore a dress today! ... Like a ballerina!

(pause)

"Mommy? ...

(pause)

"What's a ballerina?"

Cute kid quote of the day

Alister, 2: "I'm a cow! Moo.

"I'm a cat! Meow.

"I'm a lion! ROAR!

"I'm a giraffe. (Pause.)

"I'm a monkey! Eee eee eee!"

Cameron quote of the day

"I'm going to get this Star Wars Lego set that's huge, but don't worry: I'm going to ask for it for Christmas so you won't have to pay."

Coulda been at Hooters

I got the kind of phone call six weeks ago that many working parents long to receive. After nearly four years on a wait list (four years that, up until this phone call, would apparently not be enough), the coveted after-school program at our local elementary school had a place for him. Would we take it? Of course we would, particularly since it offers a six-year childcare solution for Cameron and means his little brother, Alister, will have dibs on a spot when he's big enough.

Let me start by saying that this is a stellar program the likes of which visionaries behind the proposed early learning initiative for Ontario schools would like to see made available for all. This program is right in the school, it has an optional hot-lunch program, the teachers and administrators are stellar, it's organized better than a Girl Guide cookie drive, and it has a reputation for being both fun and enriching.

There is a 33-page Parent Handbook on Policies and Procedures. The items to be provided before a child can be enrolled are found in Section 6.3, video and film policy in 5.12, dog policy (huh?) in 7.15, and so on.

But the part I really want to share with all of you is the very last bit, under "History of the Runnymede Adventure Club," and an excerpt is really the only thing that will do:

"Runnymede Adventure Club began operation in the fall of 1985 in a classroom in the school. It was originally named the Runnymede Hooters After School Program, based on the mascot of the school, the Owl.

"Due to the unfortunate and unanticipated slur associated with the word 'Hooters,' it was decided at the 1993 Annual General Meeting that, although the official and legally registered name of the program would continue to be Runnymede Hooters After School Program, we would create the Runnymede Adventure Club as a division of the Corporation, and for publicity and promotion and general operation purposes, we would refer to our program under the new name. In 1997, the Board of Directors agreed to make the name change official for all purposes."

Oh, let them sleep

Have you checked out today's story by education reporter Kristin Rushowy on the high school that's starting at 10 a.m. this year?

Toronto's Eastern Commerce Collegiate has a pilot program to see how students perform - in both grades and attendance - with a school day that starts and ends an hour later.

I think it's about time. We've heard endlessly in recent years that teenagers have a child-like need for sleep (8.5 hours plus), but circadian rhythms that keep them from nodding off at child-like bedtimes. In fact, teens may get a dose of melatonin - the sleep-inducing brain chemical - even later in the evening than adults. That, along with your exhausting juggle and his Grand Theft Auto addiction, at least partly explains why your teen may be up later than you these days.

But in most schools, he's still expected to be alert and ready to learn somewhere between 8:45 and 9 a.m.

I agree with Principal Sam Miceli's view that start times should be approached with the same compassion and acceptance with which preschool's embrace nap time. After all, teens are still children.

The critics' view that this sort of policy will encourage laziness and leave kids ill-prepared for the real-world just doesn't hold. As the story points out, at university or college - presumably the next destination for many - students can design their own timetables. That leaves plenty of years to grow into a nine-to-five work-world that may actually be less and less the norm.

Looking around The Star newsroom, as just one example of a real-world workplace, I see few departments that are fully staffed at 9 a.m. There are plenty of hard-working people here who start at 10 a.m. because that's when their news day is getting underway, their kids are delivered to school, and so on. There are others who start at 4 or 5 p.m. and work all evening to get the paper ready to print. A handful work all night to keep the website fresh and cover events that happen overnight. We settle into the schedules that work for us, and it's hard to imagine that the kid who grows up to be an animator or to video-game designer (likely self-employed or working on contract) is going to have to report to work at the crack of dawn.

The "I-had-to-and-so-should-you" logic of those opposed is simply arcane. It's the same line of reasoning used to justify 24-hour shifts for emergency medicine residents, simply because that's always the way it's been done.

I think we can all agree we don't want to be operated on by a surgeon who's 23 hours into that kind of shift. Why not let go of that sort of thinking, and at the same time, give teens a fighting chance to do the best they can at their jobs - learning?

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And don't miss this: The Catholic School board has reversed a decision to shutdown the Arrowsmith program for special needs students.

Cameron quote of the day

Cam: "Mom, I need to tell you a secret. Well, you can tell Dad."

Me: "Okay."

Cam (whispering): "I don't really like the colour red."

Me (concealing smile): "Oh, really?"

Cam: "Yes, is there something wrong with that?"

Me: "No, I'm just surprised you would think that was a secret."

Cam: "Well, a lot of boys like red. My friends would be surprised."

Me: "I didn't really like the colour red when I was a kid."

Cam: "Well, you're a girl."

Me: "I don't believe in boy and girl colours.  I chose blue for this house and I picked out these blue plates."

Alister: "I wuv blue!"

Cameron: "Blue is my favourite colour, too."

Cameron quote of the day

"Mom, I know how we can turn a food that's healthy into a dessert. CARROT MUFFINS! But to get the recipe, we have to go to TVOKids DOT COM and click on 'Tastebuds.'"

Growing pains

There was a moment yesterday when Cameron was crying on the school yard because he got separated from his friends and didn't know how to make his way back to the classroom. A friendly yard supervisor found him, I gather, took him where he needed to go, and all was well.

"Grade 1 wasn't good - it was GREAT!" he said at the end of his first day, unaware of the Frosted Flakes reference. (Cameron's a big fan of this particular superlative sentence construction, applying it liberally to everything from favourite foods to playdates.)

By day's end the lunch-hour tears were forgotten. Old daycare chums were rediscovered at his new after-school program. He was proud of himself, relaying with wide eyes the rules of recess ("'Grade 1-ers' on the climbers in the morning, 'Grade 2-ers' in the afternoon!"). It was too early for any concerns about printing sheets or dictée or learning to read. And he was charmed by his new lot.

Today it's me that feels daunted by Grade school and all that it entails. I'm exhausted by the weekend's push toward back-to-school - on this site and at home - and wondering how it can be just Wednesday of a short week. There's a sheaf of forms to be filled out. There are indoor shoes to acquire. There's another uneaten ham-and-cheese sandwich in the lunch bag. And when there was a frustrating mix-up about whether Cameron was being picked up by his caregiver or going to "adventure club," it became imbued with all that working-parent anxiety about whether we're meeting everyone's needs. About whether it's possible to manage everything. And whether anyone notices our efforts.

I guess it's all of us who have adjustments to make. Who wonder if our friends are going to be in our class. Who struggle to get the hang of where we're supposed to go next. And who need, just every once in a while, to have someone say, "Nice work, kid."

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Don't miss these developments on the education beat:

Africentric school makes history

Teachers share report card frustration

Hardwiring our kids for success

The first day of school

By now you've heard enough about our back-to-school prep and some of the associated angst. So I'll let the photos do most of the sharing about Cameron's highly-anticipated first day of Grade 1.

We have a tradition of having chocolate-chip pancakes on the first day of school, established at the start of Junior and Senior Kindergarten. (Truthfully, we find a lot of occasions special enough to warrant chocolate-chip pancakes. But there are toothbrushes and fruit smoothies and things like that to ensure our nourishment and good standing with the Children's Aid Society.)

Cameron was feeling pretty good.

After only the most minor of tensions over elusive Tupperware lids, we got out of the door at 8:30 with just enough time for the annual picture out front.

We made the walk with our neighbours -- Cameron's best buddy and his parents -- with plenty of assurances that our boys will see lots of each other, even though they aren't in the same class this year. Getting reacquainted with the playground equipment helped.

As did catching up with pals on the schoolyard.

After he knew his teacher had been apprised of his peanut allergy, he was feeling pretty confident.

And looked like this as his class marched into the school.

Now it's time for me to go pick him up and find out how things went.

Be sure you don't miss our latest education news:

No more pencils, lots more fun

Enrolment up at Africentric school

Classroom flu fight

P.S. Even though he wasn't going back to anything other than story time  at the library, Alister got a back-to-school shirt, too.

Back-to-school party

My oldest boy, Cameron, is headed back to school tomorrow. Not only that, but he starts Grade 1, which is a pretty big deal when you're accustomed to calling it a day at 11:30 a.m. and everything that happens outside of the kindergarten wing is cloaked in mystery.

Cam has taken a while to get comfortable with the notion of being in Grade 1. He doesn't yet know how to read and some of his friends do, so he's been concerned that he's not "proper for Grade 1." A little pomp and ceremony have been required to nudge him from plain old nervous to nervous excitement.

I wrote last week about the transitions that September brings, some of them welcome, some of them, not so much. Suffice it to say we both needed something to give Labour Day some shape, mark the end of summer on a high note and welcome the start of school.

We decided on a back-to-school lunch at noon. This way everyone could have a leisurely meal and good long play and still get to bed on time. (You could do this with school-bus themed invitations and a school-bus cake, but this was planned on short-notice, which I think is the easiest and lowest-pressure way to throw a party.)

I didn't feel like manning the barbecue all day, and I wanted to be able to talk to my friends, so I made platters of sandwiches (school-lunch theme, right?) that I could pull out of the fridge when guests were assembled. Along with a selection of other kid-friendly snacks, Irene's veggie tray and a plate of watermelon, this was all that was needed.

 

(Unfortunately, 2-year-old Alister sidled up to this tiered snack tray when I was busy setting up, and polished off the chips.)

It was a gorgeous day, so the backyard was the perfect place to gather.

 

Left to right, that's Alister (he's not going back to school), Maddie, Davis, Ella (who declared her intention to marry Davis several times during the party), Cameron and Emerson.

The kids had plenty of opportunity to burn off some last-day-of-summer energy...

...sliding...

...climbing...

...colouring...

and playing "Octopus." (Octopus? Cameron explains: "One person is the octopus and they say 'run!' and if you get touched, you're seaweed.")

Naturally, all of this requires refreshments...

Of one kind,

Or another.

Because after keeping kids entertained through nine weeks of summer vacation,

the grown-ups deserve a little fun, too.

Hurray!

Naturally, the centrepiece of this sort of gathering is always the cake (who doesn't like cake?).

 

I swung by Baskin-Robbins late Sunday afternoon and selected this ice cream cake from the few left on the shelf. I asked the young man helping me if someone could pipe the words "Back to school!" on top.  He said yes, but added, "I dunno why anyone would want to celebrate THAT." He then proceeded to spell it S-H-C-O-O-L. The above is his fix-it job.

It went over Okay.

 

 

But the important part is that, by dinnertime, Cameron had declared that he was now more excited than nervous, and that going into Grade 1 "makes me feel so much bigger."

And that's the point.

Have a great first day of school.