Holding You

Dear Kyle and Owen,

My sweet, sweet boys. Today we watched you walk in the door of your first day –of your third year– of kindergarten. In Waldorf schools kindergarten is typically two years. But we’re holding you. Holding you tight, in a huge strong embrace. To try to do what is best for you. To give you another year. I want to write this down now so that if you ever have questions about it, we have it here to jog our memories to give you the most full and accurate story possible.

Boys, you are big and strong. Everyone who first meets you thinks that you are at least 8 years old. It isn’t just because of how physically huge you are either. It is in part because of how self-confident, articulate, and worldly you are. Physically you are exceptionally gifted with capacities that go beyond any expectation. Intellectually you are way above and beyond “average” (and we have the IQ test results to prove it). Most everyone thinks that you’re ready for anything. But I know you best of all. And I know different.

My precious boys are more than meets the eye. Yes, you are big and strong and self-confident and bright as bright can be. You are all that and much, much more. Deep down inside you are also fragile. We all are. But we have extra reason to be careful with your souls. You’ve already been through so much in your short lives. You’ve seen more than you even know. And you don’t remember it all. But I know. And I don’t lose sight of that. And I will protect you fiercely. My job is not to walk you down the path, but to hold the lantern for you on your journey. I cannot keep harm away. But I can do everything possible to make your load less heavy.

“Every road that’s narrow pushes us to choose” (Every Road, Amy Grant — you know I had to get an Amy Grant quote in here somewhere!!!).

We are at a fork in the road. And I have not taken this decision lightly. Your Papi and I have spent countless hours on this one. And luckily we have your teacher on our side. She too has thought tirelessly about this. And we are all sure that this is the right decision for you. At the very least, we’re sure that it is better to err on the side of holding you a bit too long than to err on the side pushing you forward a bit too early.

Here are the main reasons we are holding you for another year of kindergarten:

• While you are physically exceptional, and intellectually advanced, you are emotionally young. Boys, your pain tolerance is through the roof, but you very easily get deeply hurt in your heart. You need a little more time to learn that you will not always be everyone’s best friend. You need a little more time to learn that you will not always be the very best at every single thing that you do. You need a little more time to figure out that your parents and your teachers and your playmates will not abandon you on a whim. You are not on your own in this world. This last piece, in my eyes, is fully abandonment-and-attachment related. It is more than o.k. to give you extra time because it is important to spend the time now, rather than deal with the consequences later. We have all the time in the world, my babies. All the time in the world. There is no point in pushing you. I am confident that you will come to know the truth: that you are wanted, needed, and loved, unconditionally. You may not have that fully down by the time you start first grade (you probably won’t), but by waiting another year we can be sure that you’ll have it a little more down than you do now.
• You are rambunctious, (o.k., sometimes totally wild!), loud, off-the-walls, fully-engaged-with-life, spirited, boys. You fill up every space you find yourselves in. And everyone knows you’re there. As each year goes by you mellow a tad bit more. We watch as your impulsivity melts away drop by drop. Another year of growing into your more centered selves can only help. You need more time to be ready for the challenges that lie ahead. You have –at a minimum– twelve years of school ahead of you. Why rush it? Another year of kindergarten, to climb and jump and push and pull and run and play and come home at 1:00 instead of 3:00, is –for you– good.
• You spent the past two years in separate classrooms. I believe that was the best thing in the world we could have done for you. Most importantly, as a result, you and we — and everyone in our entire school community — have a much better sense of who you are as unique individuals. You are no longer “Kyle and Owen.” You are Kyle. And you are Owen. But now it is time to come back together again. You want this for yourselves (as you remind us so often: “we prefer to be together”), and we want this for you. A year to figure out how to be together again will set you up for a smooth sail, together, into the grades. Or, at least, the smoothest sail possible.
• Due to simple circumstance, if you were to have gone into first grade this year, you would have been the youngest in your class. (the cut-off date for our school is June 1; having May birthdays puts you squarely in the “gray area” in terms of whether to move you forward or not). And this — the fact that you would have been the youngest — is, at bare bones, the number one reason we want to hold you. We do not want you to be the youngest. For a whole host of reasons, it would not be good for you, I am positively certain of that. This way, you will be the oldest. Which, for you two –for who you are, for your psyches and your hearts and your souls and your spirits– is much, much better. If we hold you another year it will be easier for you to solidly stand up straight and in front and be seen for all of your gifts. I know that someone has to be the youngest. But in my mind there is no question that that someone should not be you. As the only black kids in your class, as extremely active boys, as twins, as adopted kids, as kids who spent the first eight months of their lives in a Haitian orphanage… it should not be you who is younger and pushed to keep up. Let’s go with the current rather than against it. It will be so much better this way. I just know it.

Did you know that recent studies show that the chances of getting labeled with ADD or ADHD are at least 60% higher if you are one of the youngest in your class? And even higher if you are a boy? And even higher if you are black? I’ve studied these studies, boys, and from what I can gather you have about a 95% chance of getting unfairly labeled if we push you forward. Let’s not go there. O.k.? Every teacher and child-care-provider you’ve ever had — and I — are confident that, even though it might look that way on the surface, you do not have ADD or ADHD. Giving you another year before you embark on your full-scale educational journey can only help. I know the literature. I’ve talked about this with every mom-of-a-boy, and experienced teacher, and “expert” that I can talk with. And I am fully convinced that we’re making the right choice. My gut and my intellect tell me that this is the right choice.

For months and months I’ve been conflicted, and on the fence, with this decision. I’ve tortured myself with this more than you could ever imagine. It feels like a huge decision. But today, the first day of the new school year, following behind your school bus, and then kissing you goodbye as you headed into your classroom… I just knew –really, really knew– it was right. I am at peace with it because I know that I’m doing right by you.

Kyle and Owen, you are astounding human beings. I am honored to be your mother. But I am humbled too. Humbled by the sheer weight of this responsibility. Your life so far has been marked by extraordinary adversity and prosperity. It is a complex combination. My hope is that when we find ourselves at forks in the road I will choose the right paths for you, so that you’ll be ready — when the time comes — to guide your own journey with wisdom, strength, and self-confidence.

Every individual has the right to have their personal potential unconstrained.

With the deepest love of all loves,

Your mommy.