A Personal Note of Gratitude
Dear Miss Marcy:
Ethan and I would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for such a special, inspired experience you have given Colin in your Monkey classroom at preschool this year. Our son has grown and changed immensely and we attribute much of his upward mobility on the food chain to the quality time spent under your wing these past nine months. Prior to being your student, Colin was your typical almost-three-year-old boy: loving, warm, quiet, albeit a little quirky in a "haunted by every letter of the alphabet ever written" kind of way. And sure, we had to stop taking him to the grocery store with us by the time he turned two because he walked up and down every. single. aisle. reciting every. single. letter. he saw and it once took us sixteen days to get down aisle four and I got so tired of the food in that aisle by day eight because I'll be dog gone if aisle four ain't the pet food aisle, but I'm sure we can write that off as normal. Not the Ocean Whitefish Friskies, though. That just ain't right.
And certainly, Miss Marcy, our first born angel never obsessed over the nuances of preschool life such as calendar time and the months of the year before you delicately escorted him through the lunar cycle and he now rifles through calendars at breakneck speed obsessively searching for recognizable months. We very nearly skirted disaster on April Fool's Day when you decided to lightheartedly turn the calendar upside down in keeping with the spirit of the day, a move you pulled off and Colin did NOT in fact rip your sturdy, self-closing door off its hinges and go for broke, covering his ears, running up and down the hall and screaming at the top of his lungs, "MISS MARCY TURNED APRIL UPSIDE DOWN! APRIL IS UPSIDE DOWN! IT'S UPSIDE DOWN, I SAID!!!" as both you and I reasonably feared may happen.
He finds his "months" magnets and reproduces the words with his letters. He'd rather do this than eat chocolate. I KNOW!!
When the fast-approaching end of this prosperous school year comes to its inevitable conclusion, I will look back in awe on how my child has grown. I will think of the self-confidence he has embraced, not the obsessive-compulsive tendencies he displayed on your watch. I will celebrate you, and not blame you for last night's Passover Seder fiasco when my extended family broke out into a timely rendition of Dyanu and Colin became visibly upset, begging and pleading for people to "STOP IT" because "THE HAMMER SONG comes BEFORE Dyanu." No matter no one in the three generations of my family that was in attendance had never heard of The Hammer Song, but you taught him that before you taught him Dyanu so you understand why his relatives looked on at him with pity as they continued on with their versus while my tortured son ran from table to table, hands over his ears begging them to stop. And when they did eventually stop, because their song was over, he sang that Hammer Song like nobody's ever sang that Hammer Song before him. And ya know what he did when he was finished? He sang Dyanu. Alone. Because nobody else was listening. Because The Hammer Song? Not so much a traditional song in your everyday Haggadah. But that boy, he didn't stop, because, "That's what comes next, ask Miss Marcy." So thank you for spending so much time on your Jewish curriculum assuring special holiday dinners such as the one we enjoyed last night, whereby lifelong memories were created that prompted close relatives to wonder which one of his parents he inherited his vast flexibility from. In my 39 years of life I squeezed out a "roll with it" attitude at least twice, so probably he gets this from his father, who is currently upstairs gathering his "Monday clothes" for tomorrow.
Finally, I would like to extend a special thank you to you, Miss Marcy, for all of that you have taught my son. I shudder at the thought of living as the shell of a person I once was. A shell who lived a meaningless existence without the knowledge of what an AB pattern was. Every time I walk into a room and find Colin has rearranged everything I own to demonstrate the aforementioned pattern, I am simply awestruck.
Please note the alternating brands of bottled water. And that my friends, is an AB pattern.
This doesn't look like a pattern to me, but I dare you to get in between Colin and this project. Go on, try! Miss Marcy knows better!
It is with great sadness that in less than one month we will bid you a fond farewell. I hope you enjoy a lovely summer with your family as we spend time with ours: Colin and his almost-three-year-old sister, Brynn. She lurks in the shadow of your Monkey classroom and wonders what changes await her should she be so lucky next year as to get...Miss Marcy!! Passover next year? Could be interesting.