Below is what the kids Kindergarten teacher read this morning when we went to the kids school for the 1st day orientation. She did manage to pass around a kleenex box just in case the parents needed it. I was grateful as this was a tear jerker for me. Of course my strong and wise husband pointed out to me when I questioned why she would read such a thing is that the story below has a very good moral about letting go of our kids so they can grow. I knew all summer that this day and tomorrow (as they climb on that big yellow bus) it would be hard for me to watch them go off. Such a big day for all of us here in the Erickson 5 household. I am proud that they are so ready and CANNOT WAIT to get on that bus and get to school. For now, enjoy the story below. I know I did.
Thoughts at the Bottom of a Beanstalk
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Jack who
was about to climb his very first beanstalk. He had a
fresh haircut and a brand-new book bag. Even though
his friends in the neighborhood had climbed this same
beanstalk almost every day last year, this was Jack's
first day and he was a little nervous. So was his
mother.
Early in the morning she brought him to the foot of
the beanstalk. She talked encouragingly to Jack about
all the fun he would have that day and how nice his
giant would be. She reassured him that she would be
back to pick him up at the end of the day. For a
moment they stood together, silently holding hands,
gazing up at the beanstalk. To Jack it seemed much
bigger than it had when his mother had pointed it out
on the way to the store last week. His mother thought
it looked big, too. She swallowed. Maybe
she should have held Jack out a year... Jack's
mother straightened his shirt one last time, patted
his shoulder and smiled down at him. She promised to
stay and wave while he started climbing. Jack didn't
say a word.
He walked forward, grabbed a low-growing stem and
slowly pulled himself up to the first leaf. He
balanced there for a moment and then climbed more
eagerly to the second leaf, then to the third and soon
he had vanished into a high tangle of leaves and stems
with never a backward glance at his mother. She
stood alone at the bottom of the beanstalk, gazing up
at the spot where Jack had disappeared. There was no
rustle, no movement, no sound to indicate that he was
anywhere inside. "Sometimes," she thought,
"it's harder to be the one who waves good-bye than it
is to be the one who climbs the beanstalk."
She wondered how Jack would do. Would he miss her?
How would
he behave? Did his giant understand that little boys
sometimes
acted silly when they felt unsure? She fought down
an urge to
spring up the stalk after Jack and maybe duck
behind a bean to
take a peek at how he was doing. "I'd better not.
What if he saw
me?" She knew Jack was really old enough to handle
this on his own.
She reminded herself that, after all this was thought
to be an excellent beanstalk
and that everyone said his giant was not only kind but
had outstanding qualifications.
"It's not so much that I'm worried about him," she
thought, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's just that
he's growing up and I'm going to miss him."
Jack's mother turned to leave. "Jack's going to have
lots of bigger beanstalks to climb in his life," she
told herself. "Today's the day he starts practicing
for them... And today's the day I start practicing
something too: cheering him on and waving good-bye."
was about to climb his very first beanstalk. He had a
fresh haircut and a brand-new book bag. Even though
his friends in the neighborhood had climbed this same
beanstalk almost every day last year, this was Jack's
first day and he was a little nervous. So was his
mother.
Early in the morning she brought him to the foot of
the beanstalk. She talked encouragingly to Jack about
all the fun he would have that day and how nice his
giant would be. She reassured him that she would be
back to pick him up at the end of the day. For a
moment they stood together, silently holding hands,
gazing up at the beanstalk. To Jack it seemed much
bigger than it had when his mother had pointed it out
on the way to the store last week. His mother thought
it looked big, too. She swallowed. Maybe
she should have held Jack out a year... Jack's
mother straightened his shirt one last time, patted
his shoulder and smiled down at him. She promised to
stay and wave while he started climbing. Jack didn't
say a word.
He walked forward, grabbed a low-growing stem and
slowly pulled himself up to the first leaf. He
balanced there for a moment and then climbed more
eagerly to the second leaf, then to the third and soon
he had vanished into a high tangle of leaves and stems
with never a backward glance at his mother. She
stood alone at the bottom of the beanstalk, gazing up
at the spot where Jack had disappeared. There was no
rustle, no movement, no sound to indicate that he was
anywhere inside. "Sometimes," she thought,
"it's harder to be the one who waves good-bye than it
is to be the one who climbs the beanstalk."
She wondered how Jack would do. Would he miss her?
How would
he behave? Did his giant understand that little boys
sometimes
acted silly when they felt unsure? She fought down
an urge to
spring up the stalk after Jack and maybe duck
behind a bean to
take a peek at how he was doing. "I'd better not.
What if he saw
me?" She knew Jack was really old enough to handle
this on his own.
She reminded herself that, after all this was thought
to be an excellent beanstalk
and that everyone said his giant was not only kind but
had outstanding qualifications.
"It's not so much that I'm worried about him," she
thought, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's just that
he's growing up and I'm going to miss him."
Jack's mother turned to leave. "Jack's going to have
lots of bigger beanstalks to climb in his life," she
told herself. "Today's the day he starts practicing
for them... And today's the day I start practicing
something too: cheering him on and waving good-bye."
Teri~preschool~Indiana
