When signing Darius out of preschool a few weeks back, I noticed an envelope in his cubby. His teacher had finished the mid-year assessment, a "performance review" of sorts for the three year old set. Her assessment of my only child was in.
Honestly, I find the whole thing a little over the top. I mean do three year olds really need to be assessed? My kid seems fine. He’s talkative, but has a few shy tendencies. He loves to throw a baseball and play in the sandbox. He’ll pass on coloring and art almost every day of the week. He’s not that interested in eating. And he won’t ever sing when he knows people are watching him. Is all seems pretty typical to me.
His teacher’s assessment of him was on par with what I know, as his mother, to be his strengths and weaknesses. But the mere fact that someone other than me (or his father or doctor) got to make a formal assessment of him and have that go into his file and perhaps change perceptions of him, I don’t like it. I’ll admit that I’m having a slight mama-bear reaction about the whole thing.
When we searched for preschools, I was fairly certain on having a play-based school. My child has plenty of time to sit at a table and do worksheets. He has plenty of time to learn his alphabet and read and write and spell his name. He has plenty of time to grow-up. And I didn’t want to be in an environment where children were praised for their academic achievements at three. I wanted my child to go to a school where he was encouraged to build relationships, play outside for hours, and be a kid. A little three year old kid.
But now with that assessment sitting next to my laptop, I’m feeling pressured. Pressured to “fix” those things that we don’t focus on. Pressured to start him on the academic road. Pressure that if I don’t, then he is going to start kindergarten with a disadvantage. I don’t want to pressure my son into feeling that, at three, we have tremendous expectations of him. He’s a good kid. He’s a really, good kid. He listens well. He minds his manners. He has lots of friends and talks well with adults. So what if he forgets the number four every time he counts to ten. Or calls twenty “two-teen.”
I have to sign the assessment and return it to his teacher tomorrow. But all I really want to do is tear it up and throw it in the trash. I wasn’t ready for a preschool report card. Of course the goodie two-shoes in me will sign it and return it on time. And maybe I’ll suggest to him nicely that art really isn’t all that bad. But without pressure…
