Before the Beginning

“Are you ready to go, Patrick?” His first day of school, an adventure that would last him for the next 13 years of his life, lay before him, and I couldn’t tell who was more excited, him, his mother or me.

“Yeah.” His focus remained on the bus stop. First-time nerves kept him fidgeting until the first group of students left their home across the street and climbed down their steps toward the curb.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” He darted through the door to his older friends. Within minutes, seven young scholars climbed onto the bus, and Patrick’s mother wiped tears from her eyes as she watched.

The next day, his behavior changed. Patrick dragged his heels at every step until we had to force him to go to the bus stop.

It got worse. “I promise I’ll be good.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “Just let me play in my room.”

According to a note from his teacher, Patrick was simply not prepared. No one told us in 1979 that preschool was a prerequisite, so we relied on our own childhood experience where school started at kindergarten. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Should we pull him out of school and send him to preschool we couldn’t afford? Or do we force him to attend now and risk developing a lasting hatred of academics?

Mike, a neighbor five years older than Patrick, liked him and offered to help. By the end of the first week’s intense instruction, Patrick’s attitude toward school had changed. By the end of the second week, he’d caught up.

“Dad,” Patrick said after his tutoring had ended, “Can I be the first at the bus stop today?”

“Sure, Bub, but only if you stay five steps away from the street. I’ll watch from over here.”