Preschool Sports and other Exercises in Futility

My oldest child is fast approaching three and a half. She has a December birth date, which in our area, means she will start attending kindergarten when she's four years old. Because of this, I elected to not put her in preschool for this past year, deciding that one year of preschool ought to be enough for socialization purposes. I just felt that she was not quite ready to start last September. Instead, we enrolled in a series of classes through our local rec centre.

Last September, we started two classes "Circle Time" and "Dance and Movement". Both of them involved roughly the same activities, except that Circle Time was longer and included a story and use of the bouncy castle. (Guess which one was the most popular.) Both of these classes required "parent participation" - which basically meant that none of the kids got too far out of line. It also meant that my goal for these classes - i.e. get Emma used to taking instructions from a teacher - wasn't exactly being met. When everyone's mommy and daddy are in the class too, what essentially happens is that the adults listen to the teacher and then attempt to bribe, cajole and/or beg their offspring into following along (with varying degrees of success).

In January, a new round of classes started up. As Emma had now turned three, we were in a new level of classes for ages three to five. Parent participation had gone out the window. One of these classes was a dance class. The teacher, a very pleasant and energetic young woman, either had really high expectations of what three to five year olds can do or had previously taught a class of preschool dancing savants. Her intention was to teach the girls (no little boys in this class) a performance piece, consisting of (I kid you not) 12 different dance moves in sequence.

Most of the time, the instructor gave cute names for the moves to make it easier for the kids. For instance, a plie-style bow to the ground ending up with your arms gracefully over your head was called "picking up the sun". First position (feet together at the ankles, pointed out in a triangle shape) was called "happy feet". In this instance, the cutesy terminology actually caused problems for us. The movie "Happy Feet" is a big hit at out house and Emma has been showing us her "Happy Feet" (movie-style) for months by stomping her feet on the floor in an impression of tap-dancing. All requests for her to do "dance class happy feet" has resulted in this response, "No, I do this kind of Happy Feet" [sounds of small feet stomping].

Watching the dance instructor have all the girls lined up to show them the different steps was like watching someone try to herd cats. She actually had the girls attempt an arabesque. For the uninitiated, that when you put one foot out behind you in the air, balancing on your other foot. Please remember that these girls are mostly three, with the odd four and five year old in the mix. Arabesque attempts resulted in most girls immediately falling forward onto the floor. Finding that much more fun than any attempt at actual ballet, most girls intentionally fell forward in a subsequent arabesque attempts, whether they lost their balance or not.

I thought the instructor had ridiculously high expectations of what girls that age were capable of doing. However, it was extremely amusing to watch. About a dozen adorable little girls, dressed in various pink and blue tutus, stomping around the room without anything remotely resembling grace. Fortunately, the end of this class also included time in the bouncy castle, so Emma did enjoy this class a lot. Unfortunately, a snow storm on the last day cancelled their performance. I am very regretful that I didn't get to see this masterpiece performed in it's entirety. I will be forever curious as to whether the teacher could have pulled it off.

Now Emma is enrolled in floor hockey class. This class is full of little boys, although there is one other girl in the class. In this class we also have a group of uncoordinated three to five year-olds running around, except that this time we've armed them with sticks. Also in this class, we actually do have a hockey playing savant. An extremely intense four-year old who can deke the puck (actually a ball) backwards in order to prevent someone from taking it; who can strip the puck from adults; and who after he (frequently) scores, thrusts his stick into the air and screams something along the lines of "SIX NOTHING!!! YEAH!!!" In contrast, Emma spends much of her time riding her stick like it's a broom. What I'm saying is there are a wide range of abilities in this class. The instructor, a pleasant and energetic young man this time, requests that the parents play along during the game portion of this class. Although there is no "official" parent participation requirement, it is understood that our role is to try to get the puck away from little Scorey McScorerson. It's not easy to do that.

During the first game, Emma accidentally whacked the goal scoring super-player in the face with her stick. Now, she didn't appear to do it hard, but her stick did make contact with the little boy. He collapsed on the floor in a flood of tears. He is only four and some kids react very strongly to any sort of hurt, minor or otherwise. However, I secretly suspect that he's going to grow up to become a NHL player who takes dives. After class, I explained to my husband that Emma had a lot of fun, was not a great "technical player" (see above remark re: broomsticks), and while she was unable to score herself, she had, essentially, taken out the best player on the other team. He was very proud.

Essentially, what I have learned is that preschoolers can't play sports, but they can run around and have fun in an approximation of dancing or hockey. Officially, I am taking Emma to these classes so she can get used to a class format and to expose her to lots of different healthy activities. Of course, the real reason is that it gives me an hour where I don't have to come up with activities like her own personal cruise director, and the vain hope that afterwards, she will be tired enough for a nap.