by Karalyn Pierce

Created on: August 30, 2008   Last Updated: August 31, 2008

On my oldest childs first day of kindergarten, I woke her up early, washed and brushed her long auburn hair carefully pulling it back, dressed her in a carefully chosen new outfit and headed to school with a camera in my purse. I remember standing outside of the school as the teachers gently explained that it was just easier if all of the parents would just line up our little angles outside and allow them to go inside without us. I stood back with my husband, with tears streaming down my face as she happily marched into school. My husband finally lead me back to the car after fifteen minutes of this pathetic display. I eventually went home and cried until it was time to pick her up. I actually rushed back to the school expecting her to run out to me, telling tales of missing being away from me for so long, I was crushed when I had to pry her away from a group of kids. She cried harder about never getting to see these children, whom she had known less than six hours, than I had after five years. Other parents and teachers began to look at me like I was trying to snatch her off the street.

Fast forward five years when it was time for my second childs first day of school. The day started bad when we all woke up late. Rushing him into a pair of play shorts, t-shirt and a pair of his sisters socks, we rushed off to school without even brushing his hair. Times had changed instead of holding parents at bay at the front door, we were ordered in for the first morning of school. After a rigerous schedule of sorting out school supplies into bins, siting uncomforatably in tiny chairs, we listened as his teacher read what is still his favorite book, "The Kissing Hand", I began to feel kind of bad. I found that I was not nearly as emotional about him heading off to school.

As his teacher read, I began to think back about why this day was so different than the other. I love both children more than anything in the world. It was each childs personality that was the issue. My daughter was always independant, she could talk to anyone, make lifelong friends at a red light, and most importantly she had the ability to sit still and amuse herself for short periods of time. The boy on the other hand had been kicked out of pre-school because he was just to active, he was eventually placed into an early childhood class that consisted of children with cerebral palsy, tourrets, and severe developmental issues. One morning on the way to pre-school he opened the emergency door on the bus to see if it worked. He excelled in this pre-school, telling anyone who would ask that he got to ride the short bus to schoo. Eventually it was deemed that he was A.D.H.D with an impulse disorder. As we were able to now medicate him so he could focus, we found that he was now able to focus on spewing out hundreds of questions within minutes, keeping track of all answeres to be used against you at a later time. We soon found that it was best not to answere him without thinking about what you were saying. He has a photographic, and I guess you would call a otic memory. He simply does not forget anything he has heard or seen. He will ask questions over and over, calling you on it if you don't give the same answere as you did at a previous debriefing.

As his teacher read the last line in the book, a tear gently rolled down my cheek as I realized that there is no favoritism between my children, I was just exhausted.

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