So it turns out that the preschool teachers got burned last year. A mother brought her child to school on a chilly day without a jacket, which the teachers took to mean that she didn't think a jacket was needed. Jacketless, the child went outside to play. The mother went ballistic when she found out.
This is our fourth year at this preschool (Joe went there before Pete was old enough) and I have been so pleased with it. The director has five children; she's pretty much unflappable. She loves God and she loves kids and she sets a great tone for the teachers. That's part of why I was surprised by the conversation I had with Pete's teacher on Tuesday -- she's not usually autocratic like that. I wondered if something else was going on.
Pete and I sat down with Miss Barb for a chat this morning when I dropped him off. I had told him that he always needed to listen respectfully to his teachers, and that usually he had to obey them. I had told him that sometimes he might say, "Could we negotiate?" if he and a teacher had a difference of opinion -- that maybe he could have offered to carry the jacket outside and lay it on the bench in case he got cold. (With this nauseating Roman Polanski story in the news, I will not suggest to my children that they owe unswerving obedience to any adult. Not that saying no did that poor girl much good.)
Miss Barb was fine with "Could we negotiate?" and very sympathetic to my point of view; she just didn't want to be in the line of fire if another mother had a cow. I assured her there was no cow-bearing in the offing. Pete wore a sweatshirt today of his own volition. I think we're good.
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