My son is in an integrated preschool program at the same elementary school that his sisters attend. He and several other students who have classifications and IEPs due to their delays and disabilities are in a regular classroom setting with regular education children. Pig Jr. started attending when he turned three years old. Trust me when I say there is a huge difference between a three-year-old with delays and a typically-developing five-year-old, which was the case when he first started attending the preschool. This year was a bit better because he was only a year younger than most of the other students.
Since he is four and most of his classmates are five, this means that most of the class will be going into kindergarten in the fall. Because of this, they held a graduation ceremony for the two preschool classes, complete with caps and fake diplomas. The "graduating" children all wear blue and the remaining students wear red. Since Pig Jr.'s favorite color is red, this worked well for him. I am already wondering how on earth I am going to convince him to wear blue to next year's ceremony. I guess I can always hope we will move and change school districts mid-year just to avoid this very issue, but that seems a ludicrous extreme to try to avoid an unwanted clothing color. Then again, any parent who has ever tried to force a child, particularly one with sensory issues, to wear clothing they did not want to wear would probably back me up on the hope of moving.
I remembered vague aspects of the program from last year. Pig Jr. had started attending preschool towards the end of that school year in the middle of a very sick time for Rooster, so my memories are a bit hazy. I could recall the students filing into the media center, singing a bit, and then having some form of cake before they pressed a helium balloon into each of their hands and kicked us out. With a sick Rooster and a very young Pig Jr., I chose to skip the cake, failed at my attempt to avoid the balloon, and jetted out of there early.
I did notice a few distinct differences between last year and this year, and I am not just referring to the different students "graduating" while my little guy wore red yet again. There were about twice as many people in the audience this year, and a goodly number of them brought the graduate's siblings and extended family members. Also, no one cried this year. There was the token child who did not want to participate at all, but given that he was the one who sobbed throughout the entire time last year, this was a huge improvement. (Please remember also that some of these children have special needs, and to expect them to do what a typically-developing child could do is not always realistic. For a child who already cannot handle eye contact to have to sit and have oodles of eyeballs staring his way and not cry is a very, very big deal, and I am sure there were a fair number of us in the audience who were silently cheering his ability to handle it as well as he did. Yay for Pig Jr.'s friend!)
After the children had paraded in to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance", we saluted the flag and then sat down to watch their entertainment. The kidlets did an adorable job singing their little songs and remembering their arm movements and dances when necessary. In-between songs, one little boy piped up that he loved his mother. A collective, "Awww..." filled the room. From that point on, any time there was a break in the music, one or more random kidlets would chime in that they loved their mom or their dad. Pig Jr. was one to chime in repeatedly, lest I had missed it the first couple of times he said he loved me.
After the songs came the presentation of fake diplomas. Each child was called to their teacher and classroom aide to shake hands and receive a rolled up piece of paper that enclosed a laminated paper that announced they would either be going to kindergarten or had completed the year in preschool. Most of the students went proudly up to receive their papers. The non-participant had to be led up to his teacher after adamantly refusing to budge from his seat. After he was forced to take his diploma, he refused to go sit back down and had to be carried back to his chair. I was secretly relieved Pig Jr. had not done the same thing, as I know he is fully capable of shutting down like that.
The kidlets then announced there were refreshments and came hurtling towards their respective parents like untied inflated balloons that are suddenly released with a whoosh and a rude noise. Pig Jr. was thrilled to climb onto my lap and tell me pretty much nothing other than to say "uh-huh" if I asked him a question about his special day. Eventually we spotted a break in the mass of bodies and we pushed through it in search of a table seat and some cake for Pig Jr. We were corned by one of the preschool teachers who foisted the requisite helium balloon at my son, which then made the act of retrieving cake slightly more challenging, but greatly amused the little guy.
The rest of the time was spent watching Pig Jr. snarf down his cake or try to attack people with his balloon. He had no concept that hitting the balloon would send it flying wildly in other people's directions, and he wasn't the only kidlet to be doing so. After a while, I gave up on trying to remind him he had to be careful and just took the dang balloon away from him. He held on to the string at the end and still felt happy to be holding his balloon. We said our good-byes to his teacher and left a few minutes early.
I am sure this whole routine will take on a larger significance next year, when Pig Jr., as the last of my babies, will be moving from preschool into kindergarten. For this year, however, I could smile at the cute graduation ceremony in which my son did not graduate.
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