When I was three my mother signed me up for preschool. She dropped me off that first day and I went in, anticipating a good time. Halfway through the morning — while the teacher had her back to the class because she was playing piano for our sing-a-long — I slipped out the door and walked the few blocks home. My mom was in the kitchen when I walked in the back door and said, “That was boring and I’m not going back.”

And that, my friends, is how I became a preschool drop-out. (Note: When I was four I went to a different preschool sponsored by the JCC and loved it.)

Well, Madison has now officially become a preschool drop-out, too, only her story is less amusing. We dropped her out because her crying wasn’t getting better — it was getting more hysterical. And the school is in flux right now because the teacher who I didn’t like (and who’s burned out attitude certainly didn’t help matters) either quit or was fired — and I’d love to get the real answer there, lemme tell you — and they’re not sure who will be taking over.

Plus she was getting increasingly unhappy about swimming.

Part of the issue is Madison’s size and speech — I think people are expecting too much of her. I understand that because she does look about five and she talks more clearly and has a better vocabulary than any other kid in the class (despite being somewhere in the middle age-wise). She also seems very outgoing except when she’s dissolving in tears. While the main teacher (the divine Miss Lisa) understood this and went out of her way to be loving, kind and compassionate she was also apparently drowned out by the nefarious, uhh, I mean, burned out Miss F. Then Miss Lisa’s dad died and she missed a week and she came back to Miss F’s resignation (firing?) and now they’re using a sub who may stay or may not. But the first week the sub was there? (Last week?) Miss Lisa had a training so when I walked in on Tuesday, there was the very nice sub and another very nice sub and as wonderful, appropriate and un-Miss F.-like as they were, they were still strangers.

(I ended up staying on Tuesday because my daughter wouldn’t let me leave so we skipped Thursday knowing by then that Miss Lisa was gone for the whole week.)

I could see Miss F getting frustrated with her tears (and I discussed this with Miss Lisa, ‘cuz she’s the head teacher and then spoke directly to Miss F and was headed to the director when Miss F up and quit/got fired anyway) and then I saw this in the swim teacher on Tuesday. I think part of this reaction is pretty knee-jerk. I was a preschool teacher and I remember having to explicitly remind myself that one little girl was younger than she looked while I dealt with some challenging behavior. So I do understand it but I also think they need to get a grip. It’s that exasperated thing, “Oh c’mon! No need for tears! Now let’s go!”

Juxtapose to Miss Lisa — generous with hugs and with her lap and singing songs and smoothing foreheads.

“I hope you don’t think I’m babying your daughter,” she said, when I sat down to talk with her about the challenges (and oh so diplomatically brought up Miss F whose exasperation was then was just a minor concern). “It’s just that I think children really need us to hear them when they’re sad.”

“I want you to baby her when she’s sad,” I said. “She’s only three, after all.”

“Thank you! Exactly!” Miss Lisa looked so relieved that I got the feeling that the pushy tone is being set by the other parents as much as by Miss F.

I still think it’s a good preschool program. It’s not as fabulous as the one Noah went to in the tony part of town (and that one was so fabulous!!!) but it’s good. It’s a bit more academic-focused than I would like — because I don’t care if my 3-year old is learning the B sound – and obviously the teacher-consistency leaves much to be desired but I think Miss Lisa is great and I have confidence that without Miss F’s more pushy, overbearing style cramping hers that the classroom will see vast improvements atmosphere-wise. Still, I think it’s too late for Madison this year.

What cinched it was that yesterday she wouldn’t be consoled at the thought of preschool today; in fact she cried all weekend whenever preschool crossed her mind. This despite the Harvest Party and the treats she was bringing to share with friends. She was crying so hard last night that Brett and I decided, screw it. She can quit. When we told her this morning she was so happy that she hasn’t stopped dancing yet.

“I love you,” she said. “You wouldn’t send your girly away to preschool anymore. I want to stay with you.”

Finally, yes, Brett and I think this is an adoption issue. At first we wanted to push her — gently — to see this through but I think the musical chairs of teachers (from Miss Lisa’s need to be away to the funeral to Miss F’s departure, which unhappily coincided with Miss Lisa’s planned-in-advance conference) is what really did her in. If it was just Miss F leaving — a fact we can all celebrate — I think this would have been successful for her. Miss Lisa is so wonderful! But alas, it was not to be.

So. Instead she’ll be doing clay again with the delightful Miss Shawnda and maybe gym and when she’s four she can do African dance to meet some black kids. (This is really my only regret — that preschool was wonderfully diverse and two black teachers? Yeah, that kept me hanging in there.) Maybe next year she can try with Miss Lisa again. If the poor woman doesn’t burn out. This can’t have been easy for her either.

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