This week, I walked into the preschool rooms. Their faces were both darling, and mostly new. I did not know all their names. They did not know mine. This was a sharp contrast to last May when I said goodbye to the previous crowd. After nine months we had history. They knew what to expect, and their anticipation carried the day.

 

But this time I felt like I had little or no street cred with these sweet children. I could almost hear them wondering. 
 

"Whatcha got?"

 

We began with a ditty that includes their names. This caught their curiosity, and I saw some shy smiles. We did standbys like The Wheels on the Bus and the Eensy Weensy Spider. The teacher brought out jingle bells, and who can resist bells? There are no calendar restrictions among the preschool set. 

 

I showed them some songs with hand motions, and they played along. Then we did One Elephant Went Out to Play and they were in. They swung their trunks around like noodles, and it felt like magic again. 

 

I told a story to the four year old class, and as serendipity would have it, it was about baking an apple pie. It felt like a way to welcome the fall, and yet it occurred to me that maybe these children have never seen their mothers make a pie. My own mother was not gourmet by any standard, but she did put a nice fluted edge on her pies, and would let me help. I can remember my fingers creating the ripple.

 

It felt like a beginning. Before I walked down the hall, I read the names on their lockers and practiced them. Then I went to Trader Joe's to buy ingredients for an apple pie.