May I have a Blue Crayon, Please

     "The problem is, when we ask KZ what color crayon she wants, she answers, 'Blue' ", KZ's pre-school teacher told me.
     I just sat there.  I wasn't sure what was wrong with this answer.
     "What we she needs to say is, 'I would like a blue crayon, please.' ", the teacher said.
     I continued to sit silently, thinking that if someone asked me what color crayon I wanted, I would answer "blue", not "I would like a blue crayon, please."
     "Most of her answers are one word answers, like yes or no," the teacher said.
     Most of my answers are one word answers, like yes or no.  I don't have the time to go into details.
     "During Circle Time and Story Time, KZ seems pre-occupied.  She plays with her hands a lot."
     Like an iPhone or Blackberry, I thought.
     Apparently, my daughter is modelling our home behavior at school, and doing well at it. 
     "We really think that if you want to put KZ into a private school, you'll need to send her to a speech therapist."
     "Do you recommend anyone?" I asked.
     "No, we don't like to do that for legal reasons."
     Lovely.  Send her to a speech therapist, but we cannot recommend one for legal reasons. 
     "How about a clue towards the first step?", I asked.
     "You can asked some of the parents in KZ's class.  Many kids take speech therapy."
      It does seem like the "in" thing to do in New York.  I know plenty of people who have had their children in speech therapy before the age of two.  Some kids can hardly walk in their diapers, but they are in speech therapy.  We've been told that maybe KZ could benefit from a speech therapist for a number of years now.  I don't have anything to base the need for speech therapy on.  I don't have other children and we don't really spend that much time with a lot of other children her own age.  She said her first word, "Kadou", the name of our younger dog, at seven months.  I always felt the speech therapy suggestions was a way of pushing her into this New York competitive childhood.  I wanted to protect her from the craziness as long as we could.  Unfortunately, if we now want a shot of getting her into a private kindergarten we have to send her to speech therapy. 
     After a flurry of phone calls and emails to every mother I knew in the city, I was recommended to a speech therapist a block from KZ's current school.  We went for our evaluation.  As I sat in the over-heated, dull-blue waiting room, falling asleep, I could hear KZ laughing inside.  She was saying words like "duck" and making "quaking" noises.  She seemed happy.
      Once the thirty minute session was over, it was my turn to talk to the therapist.  I felt as if I were being judged, considering that I went through years of speech therapy for the letter S.  All the sudden I was five years old, and being told to keep my tongue in my mouth and not to lisp.  Lisp, an ironic word considering those with a lisp have a difficult time saying it.  It was as if it were defined by a sadist.  The room seemed stifling hot, the chair uncomfortable, and the blue color even more draining.
      "KZ's has a difficult time saying her S's, R's, and Th's", the therapist said.
      Most kids at three years cannot say their S's or R's.  Considering I'm from Chicago, I didn't say a Th correctly until I was in my 20's.  These things do not worry me.
     "I'm also worried about her vocabulary.  It needs to be richer," the therapist said.
     "Richer?" I asked.
     "Yes, I asked her the name of her school and she didn't know."
     I kept my mouth shut but thought, the name is the House of Little People Too.  I don't say this to her every day.  I just say, "We're going to school."
     "When I asked her her teacher's name, she didn't know," the therapist said.
     "Her teacher just left and I've not met her new teacher.  Her name is something like Migdella, but I'm not sure."
     The therapist just looked at me and continued.
     "She didn't know what a clown was, or a wagon."
     Again, I just sat there.  Clowns are creepy and not a part of our world.  As far as a wagon, we don't live in the country or the burbs.    
     "She also got her socks and shoes mixed up as well as a helicopter and plane."
     I have no idea on these two.  She knows these like the back of her hand.  Were the pictures strange?  I just don't know.
     "If you want to put KZ into private school, she'll need to be clearer with her speech and have a much richer vocabulary.  I can help her with these things.  You need to bring her in at least once a week and work with her at home.  We can access her progress in three months to see if she is on track for the private school interviews or if more needs to be done at that time."
     I'm not sure how I feel about all of this overall.  I do know, I feel sick to my stomach.  I could have sent her to speech therapy two years ago.  I'm sure it wouldn't have hurt, but I'm not thinking she is really behind now.  This isn't anything irreversible, but it is good to be caught now so that we are prepared for the tests in the Fall.  But I do think that this is just another example of the hyper competitive New York mindset.  Little kids are not allowed to organically grow and learn.  They need to be tested and coached before they are four so that they are not left behind in our big bad world.  Of course I want the best for her, but I'm not sure exactly what that is.  I really don't want her hating school or music or life in general.  I want each moment of learning to be that of joy and wonder.  It really is the only way she'll grow into the person she is meant to be.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm not that granola.  I know that kids also need direction, rules, boundaries, limitations, and that math can be hard.  It takes work, and struggles but when she gets the answer, it will be worth all the hard work. 
     This is where my heart struggles.  Where is that fine line between the love of learning, brow beating and bullying, and having the sixteen year old who just wants to do drugs and sit around the house.    Unfortunately, the line is different for all of us, and no one really can really show us the way.  All we can do as parents is to do our best each day.  And for me right now, that is a pre-paid, ten-pack session with a speech therapist ... and making sure that KZ asks, "May I have a blue crayon, please."