What I Like About You

You will forgive me if I am overly effusive about the school where Jake attends Kindergarten, but after a few tough years in preschool (and seriously, seriously, before you were a parent would you have expected the words "tough" and "preschool" strung together in a sentence?), when we see the kinds of extraordinary moments he has there, we are filled with every imaginable kind of parental joy and satisfaction. (Knock on wood.)

Jake was chosen as his class Star of the Week last Monday. By chosen, I mean to explain that his name was drawn from a box which held all the children's names, and his was one of the remaining three so the timing was somewhat inevitable.

When a child is Star of the Week, s/he brings home a stuffed plush star with googly eyes barely sewn on and ironed-on decals threatening to disappear at any moment of rough play. The star, called Starburst, is sent home along with a scrapbook and a note explaining that Starburst likes to participate in the family's activities, and won't you please create a page or two journaling your days with it. The following Monday, parents are invited to attend a Friendship Circle in which your child will share the glorious details of their week with Starburst. While it sounds entirely too precious, we do what we are asked because that is what we do.

Jake loved schlepping the toy around town, to the market, to Ellie's dance class, bowling, on a playdate, and for a haircut. When Starburst was in the car, he was buckled in a booster seat. At the end of each night, the star joined us for stories and slept in Jake's bed. We took our photos, created our pages for the album, and ended our happy week.

We didn't know that the best was yet to come.

We arrived this morning to see our son at the front of his class, ready to share about his adventures with, and as, the star. He read his journal pages with confidence, showed pictures of his early years (you know, because at 5 1/2 you can hardly consider him a child anymore), and then his teacher introduced the beginning of the Friendship Circle.

In the class tradition, each and every child holds the star with great reverence and tells something that they like about the week's Star-child. Jake chose his best friend to start the Circle, and we sat, amazed, as each child spoke about our boy.

Some children were too shy to speak at their turn. Others rattled off a list. The girls praised his gentle nature, the boys admired his wackiness.

I found myself surprised and reassured by their insights.

They like Jake because ... he is sweet, he is silly, he is kind, he is a good reader, he plays with everyone, he is funny, he is nice, he completes all of his work, he is friends with everyone, he is crazy, he plays soccer, he has a big heart, he plays with everyone. His teachers each had a turn. They like that he always comes to class ready to learn, that he is speaking Hebrew, that he is always smiling, how he asks for help when he needs it, that he is sensitive and thoughtful, a good friend, and a good listener.

Ellie (demanded a turn and) said that he was a nice big brother.

We had a turn, too. Somehow I managed to speak without losing my thoughts in a puddle of tears.

That he is in a place where he is seen as himself, where he is loved and respected for who he is, where he has the opportunity to grow and learn, to be nurtured in our traditions and culture, is almost too much.

He is a classmate and peer, an active contributor in his own education, and one whose actions and character reflect well upon our community and school. His success may be a product our influence, but it is also independent of us.

My boy is growing up.

And yet, he is and will always be, my baby.