June 9,
2015. After fifteen years and three
extraordinarily wonderful Manhattan schools, and finally the ultimate goal - COLLEGE! - my 19 year
old son and I walk down the well-remembered stairs of The Red Balloon, an Upper West Side preschool bordered by Riverside Drive and 125th St., on a
sentimental journey to the scene of his introduction to Welcome to School – Your Daily Reality for the Next 20 Years. Here
he spent three of the most important years of his formative cognitive life – a
developmental phase whose importance can hardly be overestimated.
The Red
Balloon! We saw it, and we fell in love.
The huge, well-equipped gym, with its tricycles, kick-balls, trike-carousel,
and above all, plenty of floor space for energetic little bodies to race around
in! The loaded shelves of the picture book library, the comfy reading sofa! The
warm, contented smiles of the teachers and the children! The tempting aromas
issuing from the kitchen twice a day, both at breakfast and lunch! The wading
pool and the outdoor play deck! And oh,
those wonderful toys and activities! Who would have imagined that all this
happy hubbub of Legos, painting, jigsaw puzzles, and so much more was going to
teach my unsuspecting tot the essential skills that would form the foundation
for his ongoing success as a student?
Not he. Not I. All my son and I
saw on the day we first toured the school, his small hand clutched in my own,
was that this was the one.
We enter
the bright, cheery foyer with its cubbies and children’s artwork, marveling as
we recall how my son once had to stand on tiptoe to reach his winter jacket on
a cubby hook that is now on a level with his waistband. It is nap time; the
classrooms are closed, and the children doze on their cots. Within minutes, familiar faces of teachers appear. Saundra, who had
not known we’d be coming to visit, comes out to see who’s there. Her mouth
drops open, she spreads out her arms, embraces my son and calls us both by
name. Norma Brockmann, the director of the school, is delighted that we took her
up on her invitation to come by. She emerges from her office, calling to Orange Room teacher Judy to
come and see who’s here. Judy bustles
out, beaming, gives us each a big hug, and starts singing the song from the Arthur cartoon that they used to sing
together every day – the one that drove me crazy, because after school my son
would sing it all the way home, too. Chris, Anne and Monique pop their heads
out to see what’s going on, recognize us at once, come out for quick hugs, and
return to the classrooms to supervise the napping children.
Everyone
launches into “Do you remember…?” Norma
reels off the names of my son’s classmates and where they went on to elementary
school without a single mistake. Some of
them are still in touch with her. Some
are still in touch with my son and are part of his current social circle. How many of us have friendships that go back
to our preschool days? My son gets
excited while recalling an art project he did involving poster paint and a
bunch of marbles, and wonders whether the annual apple-picking expedition, his
favorite outing, is still a tradition.
It is. I tell him that I still have the art project he did with the paint and the marbles, tucked away in my Memory Box on the top shelf of the closet, and he is astonished. "No way! Will you show me when we get home?" I watch his animated face
and the glow of satisfaction on his teachers’ faces as he boasts of his
freshman year G.P.A. – 3.7, not too shabby! – and I think, “How did we ever get
so lucky as to be a part of this school? No – a part of this family.”
For it is a
family. It was in this magical microcosm
of a Manhattan melting pot that my son discovered that he is part of the Family
of Man, and that we human beings all have so much more in common than we have
differences that would keep us apart.
Here he was loved; here he was nurtured; here he was cherished as an
equal among his contemporaries, all of them small pilgrims to Grownupland.
My son and I wander to the gym. The room is as vast as ever, but the equipment looks disproportionately small next to his lanky form. I look around, remembering his fourth birthday party, and how excited we were when we learned we could rent the gym on the weekend. It was, as he emphatically told me afterward, "the best birthday party ever!" He went home from that party loaded with gifts, but the real gifts we got were the intangibles. Smiles. Laughter. Friendship. Memories.
The Red
Balloon gave us so much. It gave my son social skills that have lasted him all his
life. It was here that he heard, “You
may not always like everybody here every minute of every day, but everybody
here is your friend.” He learned to be
polite – “Yes, I hear you, sweetie, but I can hear you much better when you say
please.” He learned to share. He learned to relax when taking a test,
because the only thing that’s important is to do your best and not worry about
being perfect; as a result, he did exceedingly well when he did find himself in
a testing situation. He learned to negotiate – “I’ll trade you this Lego
portcullis for that set of Lego racing wheels.”
He learned that “No means no” and he learned that sometimes the way life
works is that “You get what you get, and you don’t get upset.” And we ultimately learned that, thanks to his
background of carefully structured classroom instruction that made him stand
out as a potential elementary school student and to Norma’s advocacy and savvy
about the kindergarten admissions process, he had his pick of some of the
finest schools on the Upper West Side when it was time to leave the nest and
try his wings at Big Kids’ School.
Most of
all, The Red Balloon gave me a lovable, happy child whose natural intellectual
growth had been tenderly cultivated by wise and loving hands, and who was ready
in every way to go on to kindergarten with confidence in his self-worth and his
abilities. The Red Balloon provided the fertile soil in which my son’s
intellectual curiosity took root, and thanks to Norma and her outstanding staff
of teachers, my son continues to bloom and to reach for the sky. We are so
grateful, and I truly believe my son could not have gotten off to a better
start in life than he did by attending this uniquely wonderful preschool.
