The Exhausted Dad: The ultimate kindergarten lesson — confidence

My son started kindergarten with a long list of fears. He didn’t know how to find his classroom. The playground equipment was “too big.” The toilets were “too tall.”

During the first week of kindergarten, my little novice student relied on his older sister, a second grader, to guide him through the playground, find his hallway, and be properly “watched” while waiting for Mom or Dad in the pick-up line after school.

He came home with various concerns. “I tried to play Tag with a boy but he ran away!” “I sat on the Buddy Bench and I didn’t see a Buddy!” “I wanted to go to the bathroom but I forgot where it was!”

In those early days, I fed into his concerns. I thought, “See!? He’s way too young for kindergarten! I better drop out of school and stay with him during the day! My baby needs me!”

My other three kids experienced these typical kindergarten fears as well, so you’d think I would remember to not overreact to every little crisis. But he was my LAST kindergartener. I didn’t want him to be any bigger. Because him being big means there’s nobody left to be little.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to watching my kids grow bigger and more independent, even though it’s exactly what parenting is all about. There’s intense satisfaction and entertainment in watching them mature but also wrenching despair in knowing they’ll never be little and adorable like (insert various adorable stages of littleness).

Thankfully, I became a parent in the Golden Age of the Smart Phone, and I have enough video and photographic evidence of their cutest moments to fill several years of eventual empty nestdom (at least until the grandchildren hopefully arrive).

If I disengage from my selfish sorrow over the too-fast growth of my baby boy, I can only marvel at how he’s evolved over the last nine months. When I drop him off from school, I often see him running way ahead of his big sister to get more time on that “big” playground equipment in the morning. His kindergarten teacher reports that he has no problems going to the bathroom several times a day (at least I know he’s keeping hydrated).

He never sits on the Buddy Bench to find a Buddy because he’s got 12 different classmates to check in on each day. His teacher says the entire class acts like a big, crazy family, because they’re all in each other’s business at home and beyond. I know all my son’s classmates by name because he tells me something random about them every day after school.

“Oh, Dad, you know Brayden? He got a cat, and his sister has HUMUNGOUS allergies.”

His older sister will be attending third grade at a different school next year, leaving my soon-to-be first grader the only Team Wilson kid at the school. I asked him if he was nervous about being at the school all on his own.

“What?! NO. I know everything about the school! I know where the library is, and all the bathrooms, and I know how to get to every hallway. So if I get a new classroom or a new hall, WHO CARES!? I can find it!”

My son’s confidence should only really be credited to his wonderful teacher. It’s my belief that about 99 percent of all teachers are wonderful, but there’s something especially magical about kindergarten teachers. It’s less about what they teach the kids and more about fostering a love of learning and making them feel like they can learn and succeed in anything.

That’s why I’m sure my son’s teacher got a real kick out of what my son told her one day at school a couple months ago.

“Miss (redacted)! Miss (redacted)! Guess what?! Last night, I taught myself how to read. I read now.”

Of course, under all that newfound confidence, is just a little boy who immediately started crying once he realized he’d have a different teacher next year. My sixth grader still does the same with her favorite teachers, and, heck, I’ll admit it, I nearly shed a tear when I realized my favorite professor was retiring this semester.

There’s still plenty of growing ahead for all of us. And cellphone videos of little babies for those moments when it all feels like it’s moving too fast.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.