I don't know about you, but where I live, the preschool admissions process is way competitive, and I just don't have the intestinal fortitude to deal with that bullshit. San Francisco is one step behind New York City in that we don't require I.Q. tests for our two-year-olds, but type-A assholes that have their priorities out of whack still get on the waiting lists for the "popular preschools" the minute the stick turns blue.
Navigating the preschool admissions minefield could be a full-time job for most people. First there's deciphering all the jargon: Waldorf, Montessori, Reggio-Emilia, play-based, project-oriented, student-led, blabbity-blah-blah. Then there are the school tours where you try to look well-rested—and like you didn't just have a fight with your husband because he forgot about the tour even though you told him a hundred times and now he has to cancel a meeting and go visit a preschool instead and he's all pissy about it—hoping to make a good impression on the preschool admissions team. You walk around looking at sculptures made out of painted styrofoam cups and pipe cleaners and listening to the spiel about "enrichment activities" while the other parents size you up. (What are you looking, you uptight beeyotch?)
These tours are always in the mornings and I'm always fascinated by the parents that are obviously on their way to work as soon as the tour is over. The women look so effortlessly put-together and the men are dry-cleaned to perfection. They are the "point" to our "counterpoint," my husband wearing a wrinkled broadcloth shirt that has spent two days in the dryer, and me in yesterday's bra. We're soft. We'd be swallowed up whole if we lived in New York.
My point is this. When kids go to preschool, they're usually around three. Three. If we're lucky, they have a good 12 to 16 years of schooling ahead of them. Why put the pressure on now? By the time your kid is three, even if you do nothing, chances are there will be a preschool somewhere in your city ready and willing to accept your child. To me the most important thing is that my child is happy and loves school and learning. Three-year-olds don't know their Waldorfs from their Wiggles. My daughter's preschool could be a garbage detail charged with picking up trash from the side of the freeway and she'd love it as long as there were eight other three-year-olds and a quick-to-hug teacher doing it with her.
Lighten up, parents! It's only preschool. They can't count higher than twenty, they spend half an hour deciding "who is going to be the mommy and who is going to be the daddy" when they play house, and they go to the bathroom with a buddy.
Just remember, the time will come when you are stressed-out about completing applications, getting academic records in order, writing essays, and securing glowing letters of recommendation from influential people. And that time is kindergarten.
