The toga was quite cute, if I do say so myself. That ring was a crown of leaves. Looked better from the back.
So - news flash: kindergarten promotion ceremonies are incredibly schmaltzy.
You always remember your first kindergarten promotion. Actually, we probably won't, but that's OK because we have 45 minutes of tape to review if we forget.
I realize most of you have been through this many times before. G. could only leave work for about an hour and half, so he asked Teacher when the highlights were. She said the first 45 minutes are the best time - "when everyone cries." So he rescheduled his group and dutifully showed up at the beginning, because this is our first.
Ai yi yi. So first the kids had to each take a turn standing on the stage in front of everyone and saying, "My name is ____. My favorite job in the kindergarten classroom is ___________. When I grow up I want to be a __________." A. wanted to be a paleontologist, and he was the only one whose favorite job was map making. I was so proud!
Then we got a lecture from Teacher about how kids today don't know what they want to be when they grow up, and then go through three majors in college and end up doing something totally different and there goes a waste of an education. G. is a psychotherapist and majored in finance, and I'm not sure he realizes his education was a waste. Now he knows.
Then we got a lecture from Teacher about how parents don't play with their kids outside anymore, let them play too many video games, work so many jobs to provide for their future when the kids really need them to spend time with them, etc. She held up a picture of a parent playing with a kid, except the parent was cut out, to illustrate her point.
Then we got a lecture about how the children are our future (Cue music. Literally.) and each kid held up a magazine photo of something sad. Then they walked slowly, with sad, sad faces around the audience. Several times.
As he passed, I hissed at A. "What is your picture of?" It looked like, maybe, a moonscape? Some rocks? He shrugged, "I don't know." But whatever it was, it was very, very sad.
Then they did the entire thing again with happy things, while "What a Beautiful World" played. I thought, "Wow. I couldn't have made this more cheesy if I tried. "
But then they did the twist, the macarena, the chicken dance, and some kind of slide dance. That was cute. In fact, that was more likely to get me teary than schmaltzy gook about the state of today's children, who looked just fine up there in their ancestral garb. Apparently some of the kids are descended from all-night diner waitresses.
They recited A.A. Milne's "The End," and got their certificates. ("Lots of schools do kindergarten graduations, but I think graduation is when you finish at Stanford, so this is not a graduation." Stanfurd???? I knew she was putting bad thoughts into my child's head.)
In honor of Teacher, we came home and collapsed in front of the TV. A. said he was exhausted from all that dancing. I told him to watch his movie and not get up until September.