The countdown for Kindy began 10 days before the first day of school when we bought Parker his school uniform. Parker’s world changed once again by fabric we drape over our bodies – how simple, but monumental for our little peanut. When he stepped out of the makeshift dressing room at Pickle’s School Uniform Supply, he wore a navy blue, wide brimmed hat with green school crest and a chinstrap that he cinched so tight I could see the mark forming under his chin. Fresh from the package the hat brim flipped up crying out to be broken-in. He sported a white three-button polo shirt with a green trim collar and a crest on his left breast that implied, “I’m a student at Manly Village Public School, established in 1858.” His size 4 navy blue Gabardine shorts fell just above his knees and had zipper pockets on the sides and one on the back. On his feet were the mandated stark white socks, pulled up to his knees. Lastly, and most importantly, stretched across his recently tanned little face was a beaming, shiny smile that made his eyes look like crescent moons. My insides swelled. This uniform was going to be enough to make him want to go to school, and be beyond excited about it. He pranced around a bit giggling as he does when he’s excited or nervous, and then asked, “What about the shoes?” We were told we had to buy the required school shoes at a department store. As if his excitement couldn’t grow any further the Pickle’s employee who was helping us pulled out another shirt and pair of shorts and explained that this was his “sports uniform” for the days when they played sports. I thought he was going to combust, or shoot through the roof. Sports day?! And to boot, the sports shirt was a GREEN polo shirt - for the JETS of course! I imagined the visions running through his mind at that moment; him at the front of the class teaching everyone how to play American football, and having them so engaged and intrigued, they began to chant, J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets! This might go down as his best day ever. With the sports uniform they needed plain white sneakers – more shoes to buy! He was better behaved that day than he’s ever been in his short 4 ¾ years.
After dropping a bundle of cash at Pickle’s we were off to the department store to buy school and sport shoes. Mark and I began to crack up when we saw that school shoes are black leather sneakers made by Clarks. Yes, Clarks has a corner on the school shoes market in Australia. The plain white sneakers for sports day, also Clarks! I don’t know why we thought this was so funny.
For the next 10 days Parker wore his school and sports uniform whenever we were at home. We forbade him to wear it outside the house; same rules apply to all “uniforms” – 49ers, Jets etc. He also began to literally count down the days. Every morning it was, “Mommy, only 8 more days until I start Kindy!” Everyday he did this! I really hoped when the excitement of the uniform faded that he wouldn’t be disappointed with what he was left with; school. The jury is still out on that one…
The night before school started I felt like a little kid the night before MY first day of school. I always had my outfit picked out and folded nicely on my desk, as if it was safer out of the drawer; shoes lay neatly on the floor with the roll of socks sticking out of the right shoe. Parker did the exact same thing. He had to lay his perfectly folded uniform; stark white shirt, (that wouldn’t be white for too long – who makes kids where a WHITE shirt anyway?!), shorts, socks placed neatly in his black leather Clarks, even his underwear; Yoda, his favorite, with his hat covering the cherished ensemble as if protecting it, at the foot of his aerobed. I just hoped he would sleep that night; I hoped I would sleep that night.
We awoke in the morning, me with a slight headache after the MarkSteph party we had the previous night J and Parker at a reasonable time, 7am. We had talked about what would happen in the morning, breakfast first and then you can get dressed. We had to be there at 9:45, so we left promptly at 9:30 loading the boys in the stroller, or pram rather, and walking the .9 km to Manly Village Public School.
It was hot and humid, so by the time we arrived Mark and I were sweaty already. We entered the school grounds and were welcomed by utter chaos. First day of school for 600 students, and every mother and father there to say goodbye to their little Kindy kid on their first day of “real” school.
There was tables set up with teachers at each and a list of students with nametags on the table. Mark and Reid found a comfy corner and I took Parker’s hand and we went from table to table looking for Parker’s name. I didn’t find anything. Table after table, nothing. We had just registered a week prior, and I began to panic that our registration didn’t go through and I was going to have to tell him, you can’t go today buddy – or mate. I hoped the panic didn’t show on my face. Through this ordeal, Parker held tightly to my hand, which he never does, normally I almost have to bribe him to hold my hand, and his face was vacant and expressionless. Luckily, one of the teachers told me to check with the head teacher who looked on a list and said, “Oh yes, you’re a new enroll! Go down to the last table, the flower table, and check that list.” We made our way down; weaving in and out of little ones dressed in their crisp, bright uniforms, to the flower table, and there beams a pretty young woman with a list. I ask her if Parker is on her list and I see that his name has been penciled in at the bottom: Abramowitz, Parker. Phew! She kneels down to his level and says, “Hello, Paaker (because Aussie’s don’t say r’s), my name is Mrs. Bruce, welcome to Kindy, here is your name tag!” He looked at her with his wide brown eyes, and whispered, “Hi.” I wanted to cry I was so happy. Not only was he registered with an actual teacher, but Mrs. Bruce was hot! This would definitely be his first crush on an older woman. She looked exactly like Elizabeth Banks (look her up on IMDB if you don’t know who I’m talking about), blond, big smile, simple white linen dress with flowers around the neck. I was thrilled for him.
Once we put his nametag on Mrs. Bruce summoned Parker’s buddies to come and meet him. Every school in this area has a buddy system for the Kindy kids. Their buddies are year 6 students (called 6th grade in the US) who they’re assigned to and help them throughout the year. Parker had 2 buddies! Ryder and Tom. Ryder had golden kissed skin and brown almost Bieber hair. Tom was tall and lanky with blond, wild surfer hair. They were so excited to meet Parker. They immediately started asking him questions, “How are you mate? Are you excited?” Parker just stared at them as if he had stage fright. I answered the questions for him and explained that we just moved here from California. They launched into what they’d been trained to do and said, “Here, let’s show you where the bathroom is mate.” I stepped back hoping Parker would go with Ryder and Tom and I would follow, but Parker reached his hand back to me with a slightly worried look on his face. I took his hand and could feel him relax. We walked over to the bathrooms, next to the water fountain, then it was time to get in line. I backed up against the wall where Mark was standing snapping pictures, and Reid was whining, “I want school too!” Parker’s buddies, one on each side, said, “It’s ok mate, your mum’s there, it’s time to go to school.” - I wish I could write how they spoke, but my ability to write phonetically has waned.
For a moment I thought he was going to cry, but he just stood there, his chin up, with the strap from his hat tucked snuggly beneath, looking stoic and brave. I was so proud of our little guy. My eyes welled with tears, but nothing fell, I was also proud of myself. Reid on the other hand was crying enough for all of us. He kept saying, “I want school with Parker.” Little dude was bummed he couldn’t go to school too.
We waved goodbye as Mrs. Bruce led her Kindy kids and their buddies in the school entrance. Parker didn’t look back, which made me happy because it meant he was fully engaged. Once in the door we turned and left, our little peanut was now at big boy school in Australia, sporting a uniform that made him look like he should speak with an Aussie accent; I’m sure that’s to come too…
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