Preschool

David will start at the same school he was at last winter. Tuesday is his first day and tomorrow is Open House/Meet the Teacher. Last year at this time, I couldn't have imagined David going happily to school. Now he can't wait to go and has no hesitation or anxiety.
I am not nervous for him exactly, but after babysitting, working in nurseries, nannying, and teaching, I do have a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head. David is very, very typical of a little boy his age. But still, I hope that whoever teaches him is understanding and patient. It's probably safe to assume that they will be. It's a Church of Christ school. But sometimes personalities just don't mix. And before I had kids, I was guilty of identifying more with the girls. Why couldn't the boys just play quietly? Did the pipe cleaners have to be turned into guns? What was wrong with these children?
If you have taught, you know that there are always a few kids who you don't really get, and, well, they aren't your favorites. When I taught sixth grade my team and I would usually have a few students who just baffled us. And then parent/teacher conferences would roll around. Inevitably the mom or dad would be a bit of a weirdo as well and we'd shake our heads and sagely say, "Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"
I don't want to be a helicopter parent. If, say, David blankey whips someone when the teacher is out of the room, then let the consequence fall on his head (or the blankey be taken away.) Stuff like that doesn't bother me (except for kinda laughing to myself because what did the teacher expect when leaving a room full of three year olds, half of whom were still awake.) I want his teacher to know that I support her. He's smart enough to know that if he keeps his little nose clean then he won't get in trouble (I mostly mean that metaphorically, but a bit literally as well.)
All the same, my prayer tonight is that David will have a teacher who can easily love him. Someone who looks into his chocolate chip eyes and is happy that he showed up at school. And that I can be the kind of parent that knows when to step in (bring the snacks) and knows when to butt out. I pray for a teacher who works to understand David and help him be a good boy. Because, after all, he's my little apple.