Earlier this week, we went to our first parent-teacher conference of the year for T. I love preschool parent-teacher conferences, don't you? They are always relaxing, and at T.'s school the teachers pull out their special padded regular chairs, so you don't have to fold your body into a chair made for people about three feet tall. You sit there, in the sunny and cheerful classroom, and hear (usually) nothing but good things: cute anecdotes about how your child is learning her letters, or mastering the art of scissor cutting, or learning to share. [more]

On Friday, L. had a substitute teacher in his class, and he came home with the entire Periodic Table of Elements transcribed onto a couple pieces of notebook paper.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, my heart leaping in excitement over this evidence of real learning. "Did you learn about this already in third grade?" [more]

A milestone will be passed in schools around my city this week, because yesterday was the first day of school for the rest of the public school kids, and Tuesday and Wednesday will be staggered entry days for the brand-new kindergarteners. At the pool yesterday, moms and dads were abuzz with discussions of school-supply lists and first days and teachers' names. I felt a little like an outsider, since L. has been in school for almost three weeks now. But it also felt good to have our first day of third grade over and done with, and the school routine settling down a bit for us. [more]

Instead of typing up my students' final exam yesterday afternoon, I spent the time googling "speech therapy for kids" and "how to tell if your child needs speech therapy" and then reading lots of Internet articles and advice columns, until I knew more about the topic than I ever thought I would. I'm not an alarmist by nature; worry tends to creep towards me, like a slow-moving wave in the distance. I might keep a watchful eye on it, but I don't worry too much about its approach until it's right on top of me. [more]

Saturday morning I walked into the kitchen just in time to see T. lugging an enormous and very full carton of Trader Joe's vanilla soy milk out of the refrigerator. She was staggering under the weight and I caught the carton just as it was about to tilt precariously out of her hands. Next to the cabinets above the dishwasher stood a kitchen chair. On the kitchen table was her plastic Shrek bowl. The utensil drawer was wide open, as was the pantry door, and next to the plastic bowl was a box of Vanilla Almond Clusters cereal. [more]