Is 4 too young for kindergarten? I agonized over sending my late-birthday child
When you become a parent, time seems to warp into lightning speed. After years of infertility and pregnancy loss, I had two children. Then I blinked, and suddenly it was time to send my daughter, my oldest, off to kindergarten. She had transformed into a big, little human with opinions, the ability to articulate her frustrations, and a grasp of letters and numbers. Yet, she was still my baby — and I was worried about her as she entered the world outside of my protective nest.
It didn’t help that she was only 4 years old. In most states, children must be 5 years old by August or September to enter kindergarten, but in New York City, where I live, the public school cutoff is Dec. 31. Millie was born on Dec. 14, so sending her to public school meant that she would be among the youngest, or maybe the youngest, in her class. In the months before school began, this fact sent me into a tailspin. The scary truth is that I wasn’t sure she was ready, so I went through the mental gymnastics, weighing the options to figure out what would be best — sending her at 4 years old, or finding a way to keep her home for another year.
I consulted countless families, pored over the think pieces, skimmed through the scary headlines, and listened to influencer hot takes. I even spoke with education expert Alina Adams to understand our options. “What are your goals?” she asked, and when I heard her question through our Zoom chat, I froze. I didn’t really have goals. Did I? I looked at my husband. “Do we have goals?” We conferred on mute and then returned to answer.
“We just want our daughter to be happy and confident and get a good education.”
She probed deeper. “What do you mean by good?” she asked. “Some parents aim for Ivy League admissions or view school as merely supplemental, relying on outside tutoring for a ‘real’ education, given the shortcomings of the U.S. education system.” It was … a lot. To this day, I still struggle to define “good,” and sometimes I question why I don’t have a clearer picture of what my child’s educational goals should be. Other times, I believe I’m the one who has a grip on reality — this was kindergarten, after all.
In Facebook groups I visited while doing my research for my decision, many swear by the benefits of redshirting — holding kids back a year, sometimes for sports, but also so they’re more academically prepared or more mature — and emphatically vouch for their decision to do so. Some decide to go private or independent schools where the cut-off is July or August or September, and the same late-birthday child can begin kindergarten a whole year later.
Conducting this research and agonizing over the decision became an intense side hustle atop my full-time corporate job and motherhood, occupying more mental space than I care to admit. The worry grew. I worried that my daughter was still so little in every sense of the word and would struggle to keep up academically. Comparison consumed me as I recalled pre-K kids who could already read or articulate their career aspirations — while my daughter simply dreamed of being a unicorn. Looking back, I can see her ingenuity in defying the norm and choosing magic. Yet during pre-K, she often seemed younger and less confident than her peers, who easily separated from their parents and navigated social dynamics with ease. I felt guilty that I was doubting my daughter’s ability to succeed and that I was comparing her to other children. I wondered if we should move to a school district where she would start public school a year later. I was jealous of my husband, who is a great dad but hadn’t become as obsessed with this as I had. Why was I the one who carried the emotional burden of our hardest decisions? I thought about peers with children the same age who would begin kindergarten a whole year later. But eventually, I realized that for all my anxiety, I was failing to see the other possibility: What if she was just fine?
We ultimately sent Millie to kindergarten at 4 years old. She seemed really small on that first day and there were big tears and tons of clinging, but she wasn’t the only one. I found the emotional faces of other parents and we locked eyes and found strength in solidarity. I learned that almost half of the class was made up of late-birthday kids. In the second week, when the tears finally stopped at drop-off, Millie walked in with a big smile and hardly looked back. As the year went on, she was not the most advanced in her class, and I learned to be more chill about that. She kept up, seemed happy enough (you don’t get many details out of a kindergartener), and had a great year.
I realized my fear stemmed less from her readiness and more from my own parental anxiety — a deep-rooted desire to make the best choices for her. Perhaps her teacher was exceptional (thank you, Ms. Jones), or maybe we just need to give children opportunities to rise to challenges and show them our belief in their potential. Maybe both things can be true at once. Millie has just started first grade, and I still carry all those feelings of worry, yet I feel more equipped to handle this journey.
To the other anxious parents and overthinkers out there who are tortured by the notion of having a child on the younger end of the continuum, I am here to tell you that it is very likely going to be OK. And if it’s not, you’ll be there to figure out what to do next. This is not a forever decision that we make once and never again. What matters most is paying attention to our children and their always-changing, never-stagnant needs and supporting them by reevaluating those needs as issues arise rather than wasting precious mind space worrying about things that might not be.
This article was originally published on TODAY.com
