Pomp and Circumstance

Yesterday, Daniel graduated from preschool. This is Daniel's first completion of an academic program, and of course it is a big deal. I took a vacation day and attempted the solemn ceremony, conducted in the Presbyterian church that hosts his school. The children were all assembled in the sanctuary. There was an opening prayer, the pledge of allegiance, and then each child pronounced their name into the microphone, one by one, as the teacher came by, a bit like an afternoon talk show. Daniel was particularly slow and even in his proclamation.

The children sang about seven songs, mostly with a modicum of sign language and in-place choreography, as well as some swaying. Then each child came to the edge of the front of the church to receive their diploma and pose for a picture taken by a doting parent, standing with the main teacher, flanked by the two assistants and the program director. Then the whole assembly filed upstairs for a spread of cookies and brownies and hummus and crackers and nachos and lemonade and apple juice.

I must say, I am very proud of Daniel. He's not an "institutional" type; he's like his old man, willfully unconventional, uninterested in ceremony, routine, agenda, protocol, and yet he got a good deal out of this year at school, and he clearly enjoyed it. Also, they enjoyed him: I don't think they're just saying this because you say this kind of thing to parents; his teachers and program-director have consistently echoed the observation that he's extremely sweet and sunshiney, as anyone would guess from all of his beaming-from-ear-to-ear pictures, in the classroom setting, taken over the course of the year. Of course, they haven't seen any of the domestic Sturm und Drang of a more private persona: all of this seems to be palpable proof of the quasi-Freudian principle that having siblings is the root of pretty-much all strife.

On the learning front, I told the Spanish teacher that Daniel could count to 20 in Spanish before English, and I told the director that Daniel had figured out that the devil is a liar (or "liar, liar, pants on fire!" as he erupted when we were once reading the Bible story where the serpent tells Adam and Eve that if they eat the forbidden fruit, they'll be like gods themselves). The word "devil" comes from the Greek word for "deceiver," and Daniel seems to have gotten to the core of the concept.

To celebrate, we went out for Vietnamese food last night (Ian had to table his Pad Thai demands for an evening, since Daniel was king for the day). While we were waiting for the food, Madeleine had a melt-down, so I took her out for a "walk," which Daniel eagerly joined, which consisted of going about 40 paces down Main Street, with the children holding flags set up for the upcoming Memorial Day parade and posing for pictures (when in doubt, take pictures...), and climbing this gigantic, painted-black bell that looked rather like the Liberty Bell, minus the crack. Unfortunately, I showed Daniel that you could actually ring the almost-liberty bell with my wedding ring, and this became a preferred activity. Once Daniel finished his food - Vietnamese chicken and rice-noodle soup, or "Bun" ("boon," not a "bun"), he was all ready for another "walk". It was explained to him that others were still eating, but we re-visited the Wedding-Ring Bell and the flags and Main Street again, as a family, after we were all finished eating, and took a more-or-less "real" walk.

Amy told me that she had told Daniel that now that he had graduated, he wouldn't have to go to school from now through the end of the summer - that he could stay home, and Daniel asked her, "Will Daddy be home, too?"

I really love our little graduate.

(May 27, 2011)