Yochien: The first two months

Now that we're into our routine of yochien (pre-school) every day (Mon-Fri, 9-2 except Weds, 9-11.30) I can honestly say that it's going okay. That is to say, chibbi-chan is no longer complaining every morning that she doesn't want to go. Nor is she saying 'Yippee! Yochien!'
The first week was a very gentle introduction of a few hours a day. And each morning when I collected her, chibbi-chan would present me with a little folded paper gift - a man with a pointed hat, a flower, a house. She didn't cry when I left, but she was clingy and so we had our little ritual. I would hang around for ten minutes, putting her indoor shoes on, fixing her name tag on the front of her shirt, hanging up her water bottle, giving lots of cuddles, and then she would take her Thomas Tank Engine bag and hang it up in her cubby. That was my cue to leave. And Mari sensei, the young teacher in daunting, black-rimmed glasses, jeans and a smock who is in charge of 'kotori' (little bird) class would nod goodbye and give me a reassuring wave.

On the Friday of the second week, chibbi-chan turned to face me at the classroom door and announced she didn't want to go today. What she said in fact was 'I'm not going to yochien today. It's boring. Come on, let's go home. I want to stay home with you.' Music to a mother's ears of course, but not really what I wanted to hear. Then she started to cry and I figured she'd been so good up to this point that I could compromise/cave in and so we went home.
Which was undoubtedly the wrong thing to do, because come Monday she thought she would pull the same stunt, in spite of the fact that I'd warned her several times over the weekend that I expected her to go to yochien on Monday at the start of the week and that she had to give herself time to get used to it.
When she saw I was adamant, she gave it full throttle and when Mari-sensei took her off me, she kicked and hit with a fury. It was a horrible moment, walking away from her but I tried to remind myself that she would enjoy it when she got used to it, that she would have an environment in which to pick up the language faster and she would love the company of children her own age which would suit her sociable and outgoing nature.
Still, as soon as I got home I called the only English speaker in the school office and asked Ayako-san to go and take a sneak peak at kotori class. She reported back that chibbi-chan was fine and engrossed in reading a book. And when I collected her a few hours later it was like nothing had happened. She greeted me with smiles and exciting news (Kaito-kun had done a poo in his diaper and it had shot down his leg).

After that things were better. She told me sometimes she had a little cry after I left but then she was okay. And I didn't hang around, worried that a long parting would stimulate the wrong emotions. But I made sure to bring a nice snack for her when I came back. I had no worries that she would be well looked after and cared for - the staff (class teachers, helpers, sports teachers) seem unfailing polite, friendly, affectionate and patient with the children.
A month later and we were into 'bento', which added interest to her day. She still commented that it was boring or she was scared of the teacher and that she didn't want to go, but she went without much fuss. And then she started to make 'tomodachi' (friends) and was learning the names of the naughtiest boys in class and now (six weeks from the start) she no longer says she doesn't want to go.
I ask her about her day - what songs they sang, did she eat all her bento, what insects she collected in the yard (woodlice, lady bugs and butterflies are favourites and Mari sensei sensibly keeps a stack of old plastic jars and small milk cartons for the children to use as bug catchers). She tells me gleefully who kicked the teacher, who hit who, that she started eating before Mari-sensei said 'Itadakimasu.'

Each morning from the car park 50 metres away, to the school entrance gate, we are greeted by cheerful 'Ohayo gozaimasu!' roughly fifteen times, from mums and kids. In the yard, children are milling around making 'dango' from sand with helpers, playing at the outdoor sink, examining the tomatoes growing, or swinging on the climbing frame.
And we see little Aki-kun from next-door 'usagi' (rabbit) class still crying each morning because he doesn't want mummy to go and chibbi-chan asks 'why?'

The Flower of Youth

This time of year in Japan seems to be all about two things: the flowering of the cherry blossom trees around every city, and the start of the school year (or career, for fresh grads). We've been admiring the pink-tinged white baubles for the past two weeks and the wind is now finishing off what the rain started. Everywhere is snowing petals. It's the only kind of litter that's tolerated here.
I braved the blizzard today and yesterday with chibbi-chan, as we hunted high and low for yochien (kindergarten) gear. I'd been trying to ignore it, this imminent parting from my little soul-mate (or demon?), but when Tristy called a few days ago and said she was on her way over with her sewing machine in the trunk, I knew it meant trouble. What was I thinking? she demanded. Where was the smock I was supposed to have hand-made, where were the toilette towel and hand towel with the loops 14 cm long? Had I ironed name tags on everything yet? Had I written her name on each individual crayon in the crayon box?
That's when I knew I was in trouble.
Chibbi-chan and I legged it down to Jusco and raided the haberdashery department, returning with totally unsuitable smock material which chibbi-chan in her wisdom had picked out. Tristy tut-tutted, and said we'd have to make double layers for the body. Then she got to work and I watched, helplessly, while our two kids played dodgems around the iron and the sewing machine.
It took the best part of five hours (we stopped for dinner), but it did look beautiful when it was finished. Tristy added cute pockets with round edges. My role in the smock-making was to iron chibbi-chan's name on the back of the smock (and even then I had to ask the clerk at Jusco to pick out the correct hiragana). For all I knew, I could be sending my child to school with the wrong name.
A day and a half to D-day (the entrance ceremony at the yochien) and I have sewn on my loops, ironed some name tags and written others on shoes and clothes. I've looped and named the gargle cup, and appliqued the set of three bags I bought ready-made (flat book bag; change-of-clothes bag; indoor shoes bag). I've got a horrible suspicion there may be more bags which need making/buying, but this is all we need to take to the ceremony. I haven't done the crayons.
Driving around today, I couldn't help but notice on every street corner, a mother with a son or daughter, dressed up in their smart school uniform (and the mothers also in their suited best), on their way out of a school entrance ceremony (yochien, elementary, high). Twenty-five years ago, apparently, this was not the tradition. The expert cook upstairs told me when she went to high school, there were no parents at the ceremony. You just went by yourself (after all, you got yourself to school). Was she hinting that today's kids were mollycoddled?
There's more justification to coddling a three-year old. I've promised chibbi-chan she can choose where she wants to go for lunch after her ceremony. I've promised myself I won't miss her terribly when she starts yochien. The cherry blossoms are almost finished, but we've done our fair share of viewing the cherry blossom together. We've admired the forest of trees at the zoo, we've picnicked under them in the park and we've seen them by twilight and lantern-light at our local shrine. We've spent the precious last few weeks together.
I won't get sentimental. I can't afford to. The next challenge, as Tristy point out, is waiting round the corner. Preparing chibbi-chan's kawaii bento box starts in May.