First Day

There are certain moments as a parent where you become acutely aware of the rapid passage of time and, as a result, vibrations of emotion well up so that it requires a deep breath just to remain composed. Of course, there are times usually associated with rites of passage and ceremony—birth, marriage, etc.—where containment is not possible, but it is these lesser events that truly enrich your life. For me, often these moments come in tension as I can find myself savoring the beauty of a moment while mourning its passage. The first few months after Kaia’s birth, I was experiencing these on a regular basis, almost everyday finding all my love and attention directed at this beautiful little being, while at the same time being sad that I would never have this moment again with him. It is truly a gift when you can be aware enough—even more so have the headspace as we are so easily consumed by this or that--to recognize the significance of a particular time or moment. Today was one of those times as Kaia went off to his first day of pre-school.

You may recall that, in an earlier post, I talked about a not-so-nice experience in a playgroup that led to our departure. Fortunately, just as one door must close for another to open, a spot opened up in a terrific school called Kids Central, most certainly the best in the city for his age group. Kids Central was started by my good friend (and fellow dissertator) Muthatha’s cousin, a woman named Valli. Over the last 5-7 years she has succeeded in creating a wonderful place for kids to learn and explore in a very positive learning environment, and also built, without any doubt, the best playground in the city. The fact that we can use a playground and not fight turf wars with packs of stray dogs, step over sleeping men, and be wary of razor sharp, rusting edges on every slide and monkey bar, is alone worth the enrollment fees.

While we started going to Kids Central back in April, the official term did not begin until today because the months of April and May are summer vacation for children in this area. Kaia and I would go together and play outside or, when it got too hot (and it could be up to 105 sometimes!), we would go inside and play with the hundreds of toys waiting to be used. Over the summer, Valli encourages new children to come to Kids Central as much as they would like, so that they can get used to the place and the transition can be less traumatic for them. We took her up on the offer and probably ended up going on the average of about 2 times a week. Since there were rarely any other children there when we would go, Kaia had the run of the place and all of the attention of the many teachers who were there preparing for the next term. It was a really great experience for him (and I) and by the end of May, he was waking me up at 6:30am asking to go to “Kids Cee”.

Starting from yesterday evening, I had telling Kaia that we would be going to Kids Central, but that this time “papa would be away for one hour while Kaia played with his ‘Aunties’ and new friends, is this OK with you?” Usually he’ll grunt something resembling a yes when I ask him questions, but sometimes he’ll not say anything, which I interpret as him saying, “I’m no so sure if I like that idea Papa”. I had seen and heard enough to expect that he would have a severe reaction if I just left him without saying anything, but his response left me wondering what kind of ‘kid being left at school for the first time’—the Crazy Screamer? Mr. Ambivalent? The Naughty ‘Acting Out’ boy? I would know soon enough.

So we made our way to Kids Central, our road passing parallel to the just-under-construction “IT Corridor”. They have put up fiberglass sheets to separate the road from the area that they presumably are going to build, and just last week painted them a crisp shade of sky blue that will lose its gloss faster than you can say “dirt, urine and betelnut”. If you look just to the other side of the road, also running parallel to the road and the future “IT corridor” you will see the skeleton of a partially finished (or is it begun) project in connecting this part of the city to the train system. It is truly a strange sight to see this massive partial project, replete with dangling re-bar and piles of concrete shards, and usually there are one or two guys doing work on some minor pylon. But I digress.

Jumping forward to the arrival at Kids Central and it was clear that Kaia was thinking that something was rather different with this visit. Whereas we would usually come and have the run of the place, there were dozens of children and mothers (all mothers), each in their own varying stages of separation anxiety. We made our way to the entrance and found his new cubby hole, labeled with his name, to place his shoes. For some reason, seeing the little “Kaia” written on the sticker made me a little choked up, but it soon passed as we moved inside.

One of the things that made me laugh in preparation for this was how I had to prepare a change of clothes for him to keep at school, that had his name on each item. When I ran a summer school for K-5 children, I found it to be very helpful to know who’s shirt was who’s after a dip in the pool or a swim at the beach. But this time I was on the other side, scrawling “Kaia Yamamoto” into the collar of his ‘beetle’ t-shirt and wondering if I was the only one using a marker and if most other moms sewed a label in.

Once inside, there were already two or three kids crying and calling for their ‘mommies’. Expectedly, Kaia clung a bit tighter to me but he was ever watchful, his inquisitive and thoughtful look betrayed by the stream of drool coming down his chin. We sat down to play with some puzzles that had been put out for the children, and he had no interest—what were all these kids so upset about? He had to know. Within a few moments, Valli came up to Kaia and asked him if he wanted to play. She held out her arms and he went to her. It was time for me to leave.

Now I cannot say that I shed any tears as I slipped out of the room and headed out for a drink. However, it is certain that I could feel the passage of this moment with complete clarity. We have never used babysitters and Kaia has always been with either my wife or I, outside of a few times when we saw a movie and left him with my parents. Granted, this was just one hour, but I was now experiencing trust on a different level—trust that he would be cared for, trust that he had everything he needed, trust that I would be able to let go. For any others looking in, this is such a minor issue, but for a first-time parent this is a major milestone. There is a lot of truth to the statement that it is, ‘harder for the parents’.

When I came back one hour later, I was greeted by Valli, who was carrying Kaia. I braced myself for news that he struggled through the 60 minutes, but before I could open my mouth, she said that he was ‘as happy as can be’. Apparently he spent most of the time observing the other children cry and fuss over their mothers, probably in shock as to how all of the sudden Kids Central had been transformed from his personal playground into a house of raving mad toddlers. I don’t blame him, I would have done the same thing.

On the car ride back I was feeling a small sense of satisfaction that he had not cried or gotten overly upset. Was I really proud of such a silly thing that next time could be just the opposite? As I held his water bottle and he took a long drink, we came to a stop light. Immediately, a spindly woman clutching a small child, probably around Kaia’s age, started to rap at the window. Over and over she pleaded ‘please, please’ and made a point with her fingers and brought it to her mouth. The small child did the same, but with a slight grin, the same kind that Kaia gets when he successfully apes my actions. It must have been close to 100 degrees outside, even more in and around all of these vehicles. Seconds later, the light turned green and we joined the mass of humanity getting from here to there, passing by the now.

Why I Love this Time: Dr. Seuss and goo-goo goggles.