I was very intrigued. Mostly because she never says anything about her days at preschool. When I ask her, beg her, plead with her to tell me something about what happened at school, she usually stares right into the DVD monitor and says, "Don't talk to me while I am watching Dora."
"A rest?" I said now starting to come to grips with the fact that she wasn't sharing that she got student of the week. "Why?"
"Cause I run around too much," She said and returned her eyes to the DVD monitor. That meant she was done talking.
Her teacher had happened to email the parents of her class that night about conferences the following week, and staring at Ms. Gigi's name in my inbox was too tempting to not inquire about "the rest".
A few hours later I got a response praising Josie for being able to communicate so well about her day at school. Typical preschool teacher talk - lead with a positive and then talk about what really went down. Apparently circle time isn't where it should be by this time of year, and certain students, aka Josie and her two best friends, are being banished to the nap room to meditate for a few minutes to calm them and prepare them to sit obediently for the remainder of circle time.
I certainly understand that this isn't the end of the world and Josie, the youngest in her class, will probably get in line and start to behave before her college applications are due. But it was still hurtful to hear that my daughter isn't doing what she's supposed to do and that she has to be removed from the group for a part of the day, even if it is just a few minutes.
So I've been holding mock circle times with Josie and Owen all weekend. Encouraging Josie to teach Owen how to sit well during circle time and rewarding her with cheers of excitement every time she manages to sit down without moving, talking or touching for an entire book.
She did pretty well until our final circle time of the day. We were reading new Christmas books and she wanted to do a close analysis of every illustration. "Sit back, Josie," I said. "No talking, Josie," I repeated. "No touching, Josie," I pleaded. I thought about using our coat closet as a meditation room.
And then she was off. First she wanted to paint. Then she got out her puzzles. And finally went down and admired the Christmas Tree.
"Josie, It's circle time!" Owen called after her as she disappeared out of sight.
I looked back at him, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on our circle rug with his hands folded in his lap and a pile of books at his feet, and said a silent prayer thanking god for small favors.
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