Preschool First Day Quotes

A child's readiness for school depends on the most basic of all knowledge, how to learn. The report lists the seven key ingredients of this crucial capacity—all related to emotional intelligence:6 1. Confidence. A sense of control and mastery of one's body, behavior, and world; the child's sense that he is more likely than not to succeed at what he undertakes, and that adults will be helpful. 2. Curiosity. The sense that finding out about things is positive and leads to pleasure. 3. Intentionality. The wish and capacity to have an impact, and to act upon that with persistence. This is related to a sense of competence, of being effective. 4. Self-control. The ability to modulate and control one's own actions in age-appropriate ways; a sense of inner control. 5. Relatedness. The ability to engage with others based on the sense of being understood by and understanding others. 6. Capacity to communicate. The wish and ability to verbally exchange ideas, feelings, and concepts with others. This is related to a sense of trust in others and of pleasure in engaging with others, including adults. 7. Cooperativeness. The ability to balance one's own needs with those of others in group activity. Whether or not a child arrives at school on the first day of kindergarten with these capabilities depends greatly on how much her parents—and preschool teachers—have given her the kind of care that amounts to a "Heart Start," the emotional equivalent of the Head Start programs.

In Sweden they have a very different approach. There, preschool children are encouraged to play and relax without any structured learning for the first six years of their lives. They go for nature walks every day, even in the bitter Scandinavian winter. They are not taught to read until they are seven years of age, yet by the age of ten, Swedish children consistently lead European literacy rankings.

We were all different shapes, sizes, and colors. But, we were all kindergartners and we all were excited. _Banicia Mr. Shipman;s Kindergarten Chronicles: The First Day of School

It’s Ms. Hilda’s magic drawer! That’s where Ms. Hilda finds everything we need. Crayons, papers, glitters, candies, everything!

Through that whole winter and spring, Claude came home every day from preschool, shed his clothes, and put the princess dress back on. And there at the beginning, after the first afternoon or two, no one—not Claude, not his brothers, not his parents—gave much thought to his dress, for he was still and always just Claude, and was it any stranger, really, than Roo performing a séance in the downstairs bathroom or than Rigel licking the spine of every book in the house to prove he could taste the difference between fiction and nonfiction? It was not. Then

It isn't that I like my job more than my kids overall --if I had to pick, the kids would win every time. But the "marginal value" of time with my kids declines fast. In part, this is because kids are exhausting. The first hour with them is amazing, the second less good, and by hour four I'm ready for a glass of wine or, even better, some time with my research. My job doesn't have this feature. Yes, the eighth hour is less fun than the seventh, but the highs are not as high and the lows are not as low. The physical and emotional challenges of work pale in comparison to the physical and emotional challenges of being an on-scene parent. The eighth hour at my job is better than the fifth hour with the kids on a typical day. And that is why I have a job. Because I like it.

I’ll say it: I am lucky enough to not have to work, in the sense that Jesse and I could change how we organize our life to live on one income. I work because I like to. I love my kids! They are amazing. But I wouldn’t be happy staying home with them. I’ve figured out that my happiness-maximizing allocation is something like eight hours of work and three hours of kids a day. It isn’t that I like my job more than my kids overall—if I had to pick, the kids would win every time. But the “marginal value” of time with my kids declines fast. In part, this is because kids are exhausting. The first hour with them is amazing, the second less good, and by hour four I’m ready for a glass of wine or, even better, some time with my research. My job doesn’t have this feature. Yes, the eighth hour is less fun than the seventh, but the highs are not as high and the lows are not as low. The physical and emotional challenges of work pale in comparison to the physical and emotional challenges of being an on-scene parent. The eighth hour at my job is better than the fifth hour with the kids on a typical day. And that is why I have a job. Because I like it. It should be okay to say this. Just like it should be okay to say that you stay home with your kids because that is what you want to do. I’m well aware that many people don’t want to be an economist for eight hours a day. We shouldn’t have to say we’re staying home for children’s optimal development, or at least, that shouldn’t be the only factor in the decision. “This is the lifestyle I prefer” or “This is what works for my family” are both okay reasons to make choices! So before you even get into reading what the evidence says is “best” for your child or thinking about the family budget, you—and your partner, or any other caregiving adults in the house—should think about what you would really like to do.

As we’ll explain in the coming chapters, these everyday parenting challenges result from a lack of integration within your child’s brain. The reason her brain isn’t always capable of integration is simple: it hasn’t had time to develop. In fact, it’s got a long way to go, since a person’s brain isn’t considered fully developed until she reaches her mid-twenties. So that’s the bad news: you have to wait for your child’s brain to develop. That’s right. No matter how brilliant you think your preschooler is, she does not have the brain of a ten-year-old, and won’t for several years. The rate of brain maturation is largely influenced by the genes we inherit. But the degree of integration may be exactly what we can influence in our day-to-day parenting. The good news is that by using everyday moments, you can influence how well your child’s brain grows toward integration. First, you can develop the diverse elements of your child’s brain by offering opportunities to exercise them. Second, you can facilitate integration so that the separate parts become better connected and work together in powerful ways. This isn’t making your children grow up more quickly—it’s simply helping them develop the many parts of themselves and integrate them. We’re also not talking about wearing yourself (and your kids) out by frantically trying to fill every experience with significance and meaning. We’re talking about simply being present with your children so you can help them become better integrated. As a result, they will thrive emotionally, intellectually, and socially. An integrated brain results in improved decision making, better control of body and emotions, fuller self-understanding, stronger relationships, and success in school. And it all begins with the experiences parents and other caregivers provide, which lay the groundwork for integration and mental health.

With the mistaken premise that my stay-at-home work and his accomplished career required equal emotional energy, I couldn’t understand where he got the vigor to worry about his ego being rejected or his sex drive being ignored. For me, it was all hands on deck, between our kids and our house and our work. Sex, passion, romance, I thought, could certainly wait. And maybe some part of me reasoned that when I had suffered a loss, he had been too busy to support me. So what could he possibly ask of me now? But now, in the fresh mental air of my momspringa, I start to understand the kind of neglect John must have felt when I fell asleep in one of the kids’ beds every night or stopped kissing him hello and instead threw a preschooler into his arms the minute he walked in the door. At the moment I’m walking in his shoes: my children are cared for by someone else, my days are spent in rich mental exercise, I get plenty of sleep, and I go to the gym every day. In other words, I have the emotional energy to think about desire and how good it feels to be wanted. Yes, John had clean pressed shirts without having to ask, and yes, we had family dinners together that looked perfect and tasted as good, and yes, he never had to be on call when Joe started getting bullied for the first time or when Cori’s tampon leaked at a diving tournament. Yet while I was bending over backward to meet his children’s every need, his own were going ignored. And was it the chicken or the egg that started that ball rolling? If he had, only once, driven the carpool in my place, would I have suddenly wanted to greet him at the door in Saran Wrap? Or was I so incredibly consumed with the worry-work of motherhood that no contribution from him would have made me look up from my kids? I don’t know. I only know that in this month, when I have gotten time with friends, time for myself, positive attention from men, and yep, a couple of nice new bras, parts of me that were asleep for far too long are starting to wake up. I am seeing my children with a new, longer lens and seeing how grown up they are, how capable. I am seeing John as the lonely, troubled man he was when he walked out on us and understanding, for the first time, what part I played in that. I am seeing Talia’s lifestyle choices—singlehood, careerism, passionate pursuits—as less outrageous and more reasonable than ever before. And most startling of all, I am seeing myself looking down the barrel of another six years of single parenting, martyrdom, and self-neglect and feeling very, very conflicted.

We share so much every day, spend so much time together, that it's sometimes difficult to see all the little pieces of our days commingle and become whole within her: the playgrounds and nap-time routines, the first glimpses of death on a lonely sidewalk, the thrift stores and the slow realization that a father is not the strongest man in the world and just might, sometimes, scream out like a preschooler.

My family and I really enjoyed this book. We loved the characters and the illustrations in the book. It gives great insight to what those first days of school can be like. It's just a very fun and entertaining book to read. I recommend this book to all families it will not disappoint.

This not how you hide, Corin!

We can all share with Nora and then she will have breakfast too!

Affected by their L1 Productivity, preschool age English children show a preference for productive word-formation rules (e. g. noun plus noun compounds) of their L1 (Haman et al. 2010, 178). As preschool age English children enlarge their lexicon, they show growing sensitivity for productive word-formation patterns (i. e. compounding) of their L1 (Clark & Berman 1984, 584; Haman et al, 2010, 186). Berko (1958) and Anglin (1993) proved that preschool age English children acquire mostly complex words formed according to productive word-formation patterns (i. e., compound words) of their L1. Early school age English children continue acquiring mostly complex words formed according to less productive patterns of their L1 (i. e., derived words) during their early school years. Estimating daily vocabulary growth for each word type to first, third, and fifth grade English children, Anglin (1993, 71-72) maintains that in a day early school age English children acquire 9.67 derived words, 3.86 literal compounds, 3.00 root words (i. e., mono-morphemic words), 1.92 inflected words, and 1.57 idioms. Guided by the same sensitivity for productive word-formation patterns of their L1, preschool age Polish children (whose L1 favors derivation over compounding), show a preference for derivation (i. e. derived words) over compounding during their early acquisition of word-formation devices (Haman et al, 2010, 186). By the way of analogical reasoning we may assume that, different from early school age English children, early school age Polish children continue acquiring mostly complex words formed according to less productive patterns of their L1 (i. e., compound words) during their early school years. Even, Polish children are presumed to have acquired most of their L1 derivatives during their preschool age, and, by the fifth grade to have acquired most of their L1 derivatives.

Another aspect noticed in L1 acquisition is the low acquisition of multi- morphemic words (i. e., complex words composed of three or more morphemes) by preschool age English children. Preschool age English children acquire solely 0.5 multi-morphemic words per day and multi-morphemic words constitute 8% of the vocabulary first grade English children own (Anglin, 1993, 71-79). First to third grade English children acquire 2 multi-morphemic words per day. Multi-morphemic words constitute 12 % of the third grade English children’s vocabulary. Fourth to fifth grade English children acquire 7.1 multi-morphemic words per day and multi-morphemic words constitute 19% of the fifth grade English children’s vocabulary (1993, 71-79). The low acquisition rate of multi-morphemic words by preschool age English children can be explained in terms of lack of parsability of multi-morphemic words. In his ‘Complexity-Based Ordering’ Model, Hay (2000, 2002) upholds that Level 1 suffixes (usually being Non-neutral suffixes), which occur inside other suffixes, are not parsed out during the processing of a multi-suffixed word by native speakers. Level 2 suffixes (usually being Neutral suffixes), which occur outside another suffix, are parsed out during the processing of multi-suffixes words. Level 1 suffixes: -al, -an, -ant, -ance, -ary, -ate, -ic, -ify, -ion, -ity, -ive, -ory, -ous, -y, -ity, -ation. Level 1 prefixes: sub-, de-, in-. Level 2 suffixes: -able, -age, -en, -er, -ful, -hood, -ish, -ism, -ist, -ize, -ly, -ment, -ness. (Fab, 1988, 531). Level 2 prefixes: re-, un-, non-. Obviously, such lack of parsability obscures the semantic transparency of multi-morphemic words and impedes the analytical acquisition of multi-morphemic words by preschool age English children. A strenuous effort to acquire multi-morphemic words would result in acquisition of such words as a unit (as the Lexeme-Based Model suggests, see Aronoff, 1994), rather than analytically (as argued by Morpheme-Based Model). Such lack of parsability also obscures the semantic transparency of multi-morphemic words and impedes the analytical acquisition of multi-morphemic words by pre intermediate L2 learners. The degree of Morphological Translation Equivalence that L2 multi-morphemic words share with their counterparts in pupils’ L1 is also lower compared to bi-morphemic words. Consequently, multi-morphemic words will be acquired as a unit rather than analytically by pre intermediate L2 learners. Elementary books designed for pre intermediate L2 learners - in addition to the insertion of root words - should also comprise less multi-morphemic words; perhaps solely or less than 8% of their vocabulary.

It didn’t help that Jane hated Chloe S. (As she was known because of the excess of Chloes in Lake Forest.) Her daughter, Lauren, met Chloe the first day of preschool and was immediately smitten. “Chloe has a backpack,” Lauren would announce out of the blue. Or, “Chloe’s favorite snack is string cheese.” Or, “Chloe is going to Bermuda and the beaches there are gorgeous.

I am strong! I’m loved and I’m a big girl now, Whatever I want to do, I’m sure I’ll know-how! I can go to preschool, I can make new friends, I can face my fears, and I’ll be fine in the end”.

...When my nephew was three, [his mother] was worrying about getting him into the right preschool. Kid's fifteen now. He's under pressure to make sure he gets good grades so he can get into a good school. He needs to show good extracurricular activities to get into a good school. He needs to be popular with his classmates. Which means be just like them. Dress right, use the proper slang, listen to proper music, go away on the proper vacations. Live in the right neighborhood, be sure his parents drive the right car, hang with the right group, have the right interests. He has homework. He has soccer practice and guitar lessons. The school decides what he has to learn, and when, and from whom. The school tells him which stairwell he can go up. It tells him how fast to move through the corridors, when he can talk, when he can't, when he can chew gum, when he can have lunch, what he is allowed to wear..." Rita paused and took a drink. "Boy", I said. "Ready for corporate life." She nodded. "And the rest of the world is telling him he's carefree," she said. "And all the time he's worried that the boys will think he's a sissy, and the school bully will beat him up, and the girls will think he's a geek." "Hard times," I said. "The hardest," she said. "And while he's going through puberty and struggling like hell to come to terms with the new person he's becoming, running through it all, like salt in a wound, is the self-satisfied adult smirk that keeps trivializing his angst." "They do learn to read and write and do numbers," I said. "They do. And they do that early. And after that, it's mostly bullshit. And nobody ever consults the kid about it." "You spend time with this kid," I said. "I do my Auntie Mame thing every few weeks. He takes the train in from his hideous suburb. We go to a museum, or shop, or walk around and look at the city. We have dinner. We talk. He spends the night, and I usually drive him back in the morning." "What do you tell him?" I said. "I tell him to hang on," Rita said. She was leaning a little forward now, each hand resting palm-down on the table, her drink growing warm with neglect. "I tell him that life in the hideous suburb is not all the life there is. I tell him it will get better in a few years. I tell him that he'll get out of that stultifying little claustrophobic coffin of a life, and the walls will fall away and he'll have room to move and choose, and if he's tough enough, to have a life of his own making." As she spoke, she was slapping the tabletop softly with her right hand. "If he doesn't explode first," she said. "Your jury summations must be riveting," I said. She laughed and sat back. "I love that kid," she said. "I think about it a lot." "He's lucky to have you. Lot of them have no one." Rita nodded. "Sometimes I want to take him and run," she said. The wind shifted outside, and the rain began to rattle against the big picture window next to us. It collected and ran down, distorting reality and blurring the headlights and taillights and traffic lights and colorful umbrellas and bright raincoats into a kind of Parisian shimmer. "I know," I said.