Cut-off day

Our girls were born on THE cut-off day for kindergarten in Boulder. They will either be the oldest or the youngest in their class – anyone born a day later in 2004 will have to wait another year to begin kindergarten. At first, back when they were small lumps crawling around our apartment, I advocated waiting. People said it was better. People said they knew kids who grew up timid as the youngest in their class and kids who grew up strong as the eldest. “If you want leaders hold them back. If you want followers put them in early.” My mother-in-law teaches seventh grade and said she can tell who is older and younger in her class without looking at her pupil’s birthdates. It matters, and we wanted our kids to be their best, so we’d wait. Funnydad agreed. I was so sure that’s what we’d do.

Now I put that decision in the same category as when, as a childless woman in my 20s, I saw preschoolers in mis-matched clothes and swore my children would not look like that. You just don’t know how you’ll really handle most kid things until they’re staring you in the face; then you search for advice, close your eyes and let instinct carry you.

Their teachers say they’re ready for the big K. Socially and academically. We agree from what we see at home (as if we know what a kindergartener should be doing). A few months back, after much agony, we agreed to start them in kindergarten and let them be the youngest in their grade. I was okay with this decision, but I worry. Kindergarten is okay, but what happens in seventh grade when they – petite compared to their peers – develop late and think boys are gross when others don't? A friend reminds me that seventh grade sucks no matter what age you are. But, what about them not being confident because they’ve always been youngest? A friend tells me of how she was held back and was so bored with the academic work that she tended to daydream, get in trouble, and not try hard.

For every turn of this decision there is someone with an anecdote. Being youngest helps build social skills because they have to work to be included. Being oldest helps build social skills because others look up to you. One friend tells me that she was youngest and loved it, and her husband was oldest and loved that. I conclude that you make the best of whatever your situation.

Oh why, oh why couldn’t my daughters have been born in any other month? Why can’t Boulder have a different cut-off day?

In fact, it turns out that Minneapolis, where we lived for two years before Boulder, has a kindergarten cut-off day of September 1. Bam, decision made: wait. And New York City where they were born has a cutoff of December 31. Bam, decision made: enroll. What this tells me is that it’s not about the age in terms of academic success – these kids all blend in the same academic environment at college – it’s your peer group.

But anyway, we’d decided, and kindergarten it is. In addition to their academic readiness, most of their friends would be going to kindergarten. How odd would it be that kids they play with all the time are suddenly a year older than they are? And if we did that to them, what would be our reason for holding them back? To possibly set them up to be stronger leaders? Aren’t there other ways to foster that?

So, as a way of hedging, Funnydad and I thought we would continue them at their Montessori school for the kindergarten year and put them in public first grade. Give them another year of maturity before they faced the big school with a cafeteria and changing classes for art and music.

I must have subconsciously questioned the decision. At each playdate or moms' parking lot discussion, I’d explain our reasons to M+O’s friend’s parents. Protesting too much… Everyone else's kids are going to our local elementary school, Foothills. It’s an excellent school, why would you pay for private school when Boulder’s public schools are top-notch?

Doubt crept in. Just who would be left at their Montessori school next year? There are 15 in this year’s kindergarten class, but the school says they know next year is a smaller class. How small? Would we want them to be just two kindergarteners of five? (No.) We've requested the enrollment numbers for next year for their current school, but don't have them yet. In this economy Funnydad and I doubt many will choose private kindergarten if they don’t have a compelling reason. And, anyway, aren’t I being a tad over protective? If they’re ready for kindergarten, then frickin' put them in kindergarten.

You might think this blog post ends with our decision, but it doesn’t. I’m still in agony over what is right: keeping them at their Montessori school or putting them in our within-walking-distance public elementary school; however, I feel the tide turning toward the public school option. I am coming to realize that if the decision is this hard to make, both answers must be okay.

The girls started telling people they’re going to Foothills next year, I think because they keep hearing their friends saying they’re going. M+O don’t understand they may not be in the same classroom as their friends, they just want to go where everyone else is going.

Funnydad and I are still trying to find out how many kindergarteners their Montessori school will have next year, and we still have a Big Discussion ahead of us to decide. And whichever way we go, I have years of worry ahead of me.

School, especially middle school, was hard on me. I wasn’t popular. I dreaded that feeling of walking off the cafeteria line, tray in hand, scanning the lunch room for someone I could sit with. It was hard, tearful at times, and I would do almost anything to shelter my girls from that experience. But, my mother tells sad stories of eating her middle school lunches in a ladies room stall because she couldn’t find anyone to eat with in the cafeteria either. Maybe it’s genetic. Or maybe there’s nothing to help adolescence not suck. Or maybe, because they’re twins, they will always be able to eat lunch with each other.