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Julieboo
Member
02-05-2002
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 8:25 am
It's about a kid going to kindergarten for the first time. I think it is a poem, but it might just be prose. I think it says something about the kid getting on the school bus and how fast the first 5 years went. Anyone able to help? I know it is not a lot to go on, but i know there are some superslueths here!
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 9:00 am
Is it this one? You were six months old and full of fun, With a blink of my eye, you were suddenly one. There were so many things we were going to do, But I turned my head and you turned two. At two you were very dependent on me, But independence took over when you turned three. Your third birthday, another year I tried to ignore, But when I lit the candles, there weren't three but four. Four was the year that you really thrived, Why, look at you now, you're already five. Now you are ready for books and for rules. This is the year that you go to school. The big day came, you were anxious to go, We walked to the bus, going oh, so slow. As you climbed aboard and waved good-bye, I felt a lump in my throat and tears stung my eyes. Time goes so fast, It's hard to believe that just yesterday you were home with me. And tomorrow when the bus brings you home and you jump to the ground, You'll be wearing your cap and graduation gown. So I'm holding to these moments as hard as I can, Because the next time I look, I'll be seeing a man. by Robert Fulghum
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Vee
Member
02-23-2004
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 9:08 am
This one? My Young Son by Dan Valentine Dear World, My young son starts to school today...It's going to be sort of strange and new to him for awhile, and I wish you would sort of treat him gently. You see, up to now he's been king of the roost...He's been boss of the backyard...His mother has always been near to soothe his wounds and repair his feelings. But now things are going to be different. This morning he's going to walk down the front steps, wave his hand, and start out on the great adventure...It is an adventure that might take him across continents, across oceans...It's an adventure that will probably include wars and tragedy and sorrow...To live his life in the world he will have to live in, will require faith and love and courage. So, World, I wish you would sort of look after him...Take him by the hand and teach him things he will have to know. But do it gently, if you can. He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, that all men are not true. But teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero...that for every crooked politician there is a great and dedicated leader...Teach him that for every enemy, there is a friend. Steer him away from envy, if you can...and teach him the secret of quiet laughter. In school, World, teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat...Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone says they are wrong...Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with tough people. Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when everyone is getting on the bandwagon...Teach him to listen to all men--but teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth and take just the good that siphons through. Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he's sad...Teach him there is no shame in tears...Teach him there can be glory in failure and despair in success. Treat him gently, World, if you can, but don't coddle him... Because only the test of fire makes fine steel...Let him have the courage to be impatient...Let him have the patience to be brave. Let him be no man's man...Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself. Because then he will always have sublime faith in mankind. This is quite an order, World, but see what you can do...He's such a nice little fellow, my son! Perhaps this one? I Trust You'll Treat Her Well by Victor Buono Dear World: I bequeath to you today one little girl...in a crispy dress...with two brown eyes....and a happy laugh that ripples all day long..and a flash of light brown hair that bounces in the sun when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well. She's slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning...and skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again will she be completely mine. Prim and proud she'll wave her young and independent hand this morning and say "Goodbye" and walk with little lady steps to the schoolhouse. Now she'll learn to stand in lines...and wait by the alphabet for her name to be called. She'll learn to tune her ears for the sounds of school-bells...and deadlines...and she'll learn to giggle..and gossip...and look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little boy 'cross the aisle sticks out his tongue at her. And now she'll learn to be jealous. And now she'll learn how it is to feel hurt inside. And now she'll learn how not to cry. No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch on a summer day and watch an ant scurry across the crack in the sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the dawn and kiss lilac blooms in the morning dew. No, now she'll worry about those important things..like grades and which dress to wear and whose best friends is whose. And the magic of books and learning will replace the magic of her blocks and dolls. And now she'll find new heroes. For five full years now I've been her sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and mother and friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers..which is only right. But no longer will I be the smartest woman in the whole world. Today when that school bell rings for the first time...she'll learn what it means to be a member of the group..with all its privileges and its disadvantages too. She'll learn in time that proper young ladies do not laugh out loud...or kiss dogs..or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms..or even watch ants scurry across cracks in sidewalks in the summer. Today she'll learn for the first time that all who smile at her are not her friends. And I'll stand on the front porch and watch her start out on the long, lonely journey to becoming a woman. So, world, I bequeath to you today one little girl...in a crispy dress...with two brown eyes...and a flash of light brown hair that bounces in the sunlight when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well. SOURCE
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Vee
Member
02-23-2004
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 9:13 am
I've got to say that it has been twenty-three years since I sent a daughter to school and twenty-one since I sent a son...and I have tears in my eyes reading these selections. I wish all parents sending children to school for the first time in the coming weeks, my very best wishes. It's never easy to let them go.
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Vee
Member
02-23-2004
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 9:18 am
Just had to add this one as well for a little levity. First Day Every one has a "First Day" when they feel sad and all alone. It can be so scary when you're out on your own. Take my hankie, dry your tears. You'll find lots of things to do and you'll probably make new friends. I promise we'll be together when the school day ends. Here comes the teacher, blow your nose and be brave. Come on now wipe your eyes, this is no way to behave. "Well, good morning teacher. We really must beg your pardon. No, MOMMY doesn't always act this way. But it's my first day of....KINDERGARTEN!" SAME SOURCE
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Julieboo
Member
02-05-2002
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 10:50 am
Thank you so much!!!! Cindori, that was the one I wanted! And Vee, the ones you posted are so sweet. Thanks so much. Okay, now I gotta go wash the tears off. My ds will wonder why I am crying. he goes to kindergarten this fall. 
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 10:53 am
You're welcome, Julie. Glad I could help!
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Wargod
Moderator
07-16-2001
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 11:36 am
LOL Vee, I was thinking the same thing. My daughter started kindergarten last year and at the begining of the year as the bus would roll up, she'd be clinging to me and hugging me tight. Throughout the year, the clinging and hugging got less until one day she hopped on the bus without a backwards glance! Sniff sniff. Julie good luck! Kindergarten is fun, but dang its so sad to watch them go away without you being there the whole time.
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Jewels
Member
09-23-2000
| Tuesday, July 27, 2004 - 3:20 pm
You guys are making me cry! <reminds self to check in to homeschooling...> 
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Djgirl
Member
07-17-2002
| Friday, August 13, 2004 - 11:43 am
Damn! I don't even have kids and I'm sitting here bawling!!!
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Julieboo
Member
02-05-2002
| Tuesday, September 21, 2004 - 10:29 am
bump
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Reader234
Member
08-13-2000
| Tuesday, September 21, 2004 - 3:17 pm
Great, just what I need.. (she says smiling!) >>>reader passes kleenex, and thanks everyone for posting... I should try and locate the one to the coach...
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Llkoolaid
Member
08-01-2001
| Wednesday, September 22, 2004 - 8:56 am
Oh my, gimme that box of kleenex.
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Julieboo
Member
02-05-2002
| Friday, October 08, 2004 - 6:55 pm
Welcome To Holland By Emily Perl Kingsley c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved . ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...... When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting. After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland." "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss. But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.
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