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Confessions of a Preschool Dropout

Confessions of a Preschool Dropout

                Its about time I came clean.  It’s true.  I dropped out of school.  Preschool.  I think I lasted all of four days.  I decided it just wasn’t for me.   I’m fairly certain it was the plate of peas they sat in front of me on my first day that expedited this decision.  I tried to tell them I wasn’t eating lunch there.  My Mama was coming to get me, and we were going to Mamaw and Papaw’s for lunch. Yet there I sat in the basement of Mrs. Charlene’s Wee Care with a plate of peas in front of me.  This was not going well.

                Here’s another confession- I was almost four years old before I was potty trained.  As my Mom likes to tell it, I was actually old enough to get out of the bath tub myself, put on my own diaper and pjs, go to the fridge to get my own bottle, and then settle down on the couch for some Dynasty or Dallas.  The whole preschool drop out scenario is starting to make more sense, isn’t it?

                Now for some good news… I am actually an independent adult with a career, my own family, and my own house. I know there may have been some serious doubts along the way, particularly during those diaper filled years, but I did it.  I grew up.  I actually did a pretty good job of it.  Am I perfect? Heck no.  However, I made it through a full year of Kindergarten wearing panties and haven’t really looked back since.   

                As a mom and a teacher, I am constantly watching kids and how they develop.  I’m worried about my own kids.  I’m worried about my school kids. I’m tracking data and comparing milestones.  Now, with social media changing our culture, it’s even harder to ignore those little worries when something or someone isn’t right on target with everyone else.

              Hear me out though, it will be okay.  Like really and truly okay.  I walk the halls with hundreds of kids and adults each day.  I don’t know who was potty trained before the age of 2.  I don’t know who had a paci past the age of 3. (Okay, I do know one kid- I gave birth to him.) I don’t know who still sleeps  with the light on,  who has a blankie, or who sucks their thumb.  What I do know is that each of those kids are growing in their own way and the main thing we need to be worried about is pouring love, kindness, and consistency in them each day.

               Obviously, I am a huge proponent for early intervention.  That is essentially my passion and career.  I’m just saying that Einstein didn’t talk until four, Daniel Radcliffe still struggles with tying his own shoes, and I rocked a diaper well past the age of three.  So, stop comparing yourself or your kids.  We will all get there in our own time.  


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1 comment

  • Hannah Harvey

    Wow, great post Ami. I really enjoyed reading it and can totally feel your passion.

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