You would just love autumn in the kindergarten classroom. The color orange is everywhere and someone is always fortunate enough to have a precious grandmother in the Carolinas… or Michigan... or Buffalo who loves so dearly that she sends “The Box”… That treasured container of red and yellow and orange and brown fall leaves. Naturally the 5-year-old carrying The Box through the parking lot, down the hall and into the classroom receives enough oooohs and ah ah ah’s to equate to a standing ovation at Carnegie Hall. With gusto and aplomb we dump our treasured leaves into a large basket. These gifts from the trees become the centerpiece of our yoga time until they turn to dust! We feel them, we sniff them, we try to duplicate them at painting time, always venerating the child who delivered them to us. Take heart and take note, dear parents, and Federal Express one giant box of golden leaves to your child’s classroorn and forget about the seven-clown birthday party at Vizcaya with the Haagen Das vendor. The reinforcement of your child’s self esteem and your $ will go farther.

Indians and Pilgrims also come in the autumn. When I was a young collegiate at the University of Florida ... back in 1965 when, like you today, gravity was on my side (that means my mother’s thighs did not yet come from under my tennis skirt), I was doing my 11 practice teaching” in a beautiful kindergarten at the University of Florida. Well, I got this glorious vision of a project called Child-of-the-Week. Even then, more in ignorance than in purpose, I was trying to develop family esprit de corps, if you will, and I thought this would be the perfect vehicle. I must say when little William Silver came up and asked if his grandfather, a professor at the University, could come and talk with us for his child of the week, moment of glory, William’s words were only getting half of my attention. The other portion was focused as it always was on how on earth I was going to catch Alan Nichols, the husband prospect I had been chasing since puberty. That was what girls thought of in the 60s. Nonetheless, little William persisted in hugging at my thighs until I said yes.

Two days later ‘the most majestic Sioux Indian, originally from the North Dakota plains, dressed in full Indian regalia appeared at my door. The look of pride on William’s face is as bright to me today as it was in my youth.

Get ready for some parenting wisdom because here it comes:

This loving grandfather told us of days long past — But he also shared two things we must never forget: Loved ones (a.k.a. parents) should always whisper their disappointment calmly in a child’s ear so as not to make them look small before others. It is their joyful approval of jobs well done, that they should shout so loudly the relatives back in Fargo can hear. How often do I see parents from my windows on the world shouting, “How could anyone with even the IQ of a Q-tip forget a backpack! Do you have any idea how late I’m going to be if I have to fight all that traffic and go back home?” And yet when they’ve wowed an audience in the Christopher Columbus play, Daddy whispers ever so quietly, 1 am so proud of you!” OK so we don’t have to be the next Dr. Spock to know that being compared to Leonardo diCaprio is a little more flattering in front of your peers than a Johnson & Johnson baby product.

The other thought Professor Silver left us with has been taught by me to 24 kindergarten classes since. “Long ago the Indians believed the lights of the night time sky were not stars at all... but openings in the heavens where the smiles of our loved ones shine through to let us know they are proud and happy.”

Your homework for this evening is to quietly walk around the block with your child and gaze at the lights of the night-time sky.

Happy trails to you.

Sue Nichols, born and raised in Miami-Dade County and has 24 years experience with kindergarten classrooms.

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