An Open Letter to My Little One's Kindergarten Teacher

Dear Miss Kindergarten Teacher (KT for short),

I MISS YOU!  The summer is not the same without you.  First of all, the little one thinks he knows it all since you are not here, and he is the only one to now correct his obviously errant mother.  Now, not only is my cinnamon toast flawed, but I have also failed to properly concoct a good stone soup.  The little one clearly remembers bringing a recipe home that he swears you helped him write.  I vaguely remember a brown piece of construction paper with various vegetable pictures glued to it.  By the time it got here though, two had fallen off and a portion had been ripped away on the bus.  In my haste, I admit I may have thrown this precious recipe out.  My incredible disregard for the finer things in life pains my little one to no end.

Without you, Miss KT, life is much harder in the morning.  There is no longer any bus to catch or lessons that we can't learn if we're too hungry.  If he doesn't want to go to summer activities, there is no Miss KT who might be sad if she doesn't see him.  There is no special song he might miss and no hamster whose glass he must remember not to tap, even if he really, really wants to.

Aside from that, Mommy is just not as cool as you are, Miss KT.  There are no centers at home, and it is not fair that I do not like either paint or Play-Doh on the carpet.  We have caught worms, made airplanes, and learned about rainbows, but, according to the little one, you could make it more fun.

We have reviewed our color rhymes ad nauseum, and I no longer have dreams about monsters that eat or destroy things but about Red sick in bed, Blue with the Flu, and poor Purple who needs to burple.  We resurrect our art projects on a regular basis, and everything done well merits a star that the little one draws the "Miss KT way."

Still, he has learned so much, and I am grateful for all you have taught him.  I love that he can spell even if it means that Daddy and I can no longer hold secret conversations in front of him without his editorial comments:  "But I don't want THAT for my birthday," "I want soda just like Daddy," or "I am NOT going to B-E-D after this!"  And I only get slightly frustrated when he wants to spell out an entire conversation with me.  "M-O-M!  M-O-M!  P-O-P-S-I-K-L P-L-E-Z!"  And I love that he knows two dimes and four pennies are almost a quarter.  It would be nice if he didn't need to upgrade those two dimes and four pennies, but that, alas, is not your fault.

But perhaps the best thing you taught him was apparent as he watched swim team practice the other day and confused the "alligator" kickboards the coach was hollering about with real alligators.

"I can't swim here anymore," he confided to me.

"Why?" I asked.

"There are alligators in the pool, Mom!"

"No, there aren't.  Those are just kickboards, sweetheart."

"No, Mom!  The teacher said, 'alligators,' and teachers never lie!"

No, Miss KT, you have never lied or done anything but model kindness and patience to a very impressionable young man.  And for that I thank you.