3rd Day of School

After last Friday's traumatic experience, we decided to split Ethan's day in school into half. At lunchtime, I brought him home, and made sure he had a substantial, nourishing meal. Judging from what the school serves at lunch, I presume he would eat more at home.

Ethan was thrilled to see me at noon. When I arrived outside his classroom to pick him up, there were only 3 students in the class, each doing his own stuff, with the lead teacher supervising them. I had not asked how Ethan fared in this first half of the day in my rush to get Ethan home for lunch.

As I walked Ethan back to our apartment, I told him that we would be returning to school after lunch. He responded with sad frowns, almost tearing. But I persisted. At the end of lunch, as I redressed him and got him ready, he started sobbing and repeatedly asked not to return to school. But I kept my cool and continued to assure him that I'd be back to pick him up after the school bell rings. When I finally handed him over to the teacher, he looked truly upset, and was tearing badly. But I knew I had to leave. Incidentally, I witnessed how the teacher prepares them for their nap. She would remove their shoes and pants, leave their underwear on, and offer them their snuggle toys, if they had any. Ethan remained somewhat oblivious to the teacher's handling and continued to cry and whine about my departure. I could only walk away with a heavy heart and hope that the teacher copes eventually. There were several thoughts going through me after this episode: is it really better to have Ethan go through 2 times of crying each day (because I leave him twice), or just once? Would home-schooling for his kindergarten be an overall better option for him?

After a worrisome afternoon for me, I returned to fetch Ethan at 4.30pm. And to my surprise, he was in a jolly good mood! He still dashed out of his classroom eagerly to give me a hug but I could sense that he didn't have such a tough afternoon afterall. Upon asking the teacher, I found out that after his crying struggle, he fell asleep, looking out from the window in the main classroom, and had a decent 1hr nap. And he didn't cry at all after waking up, and did well in class. That was comforting to hear. And as I led Ethan out from school, offering him a Pocky snack, he hopped and skipped occasionally, broke out into singing aloud and was happily naming the colours of all the cars he saw along the streets. My spirits certainly turned for the better from then on, except for the usual afternoon fatigue that crept in.