The first time my husband suggested holding our youngest back from kindergarten, I laughed. Academic redshirting, as the practice is sometimes called, rarely occurred in the rural Appalachian community where I attended kindergarten.
“Her birthday is in June,” I said.
“Almost July,” he said.
“Mine is August, almost September,” I countered. “I wasn’t even the youngest in my class.” In my experience, only children with developmental delays or extremely tiny boys waited a year.
“Well, it’s different here,” he said.
I couldn’t argue with that. We settled in my husband’s affluent New Jersey hometown for the schools and family support. As much as I love Virginia and appreciate the public education I received there, my husband was far better prepared to attend the college where we met. Still, I questioned why anyone would wait to send a five-year-old to kindergarten who has reached all her developmental milestones.
It turns out there are many reasons, ranging from immaturity to perceived advantages in academics and sports. A child like my daughter can either be the youngest in her class or the oldest. And in school systems like ours, the parents choose.
It is by far the most difficult parenting decision I have had to make. If I hold her, will she be bored? Will she be the first in her class to hit puberty? Middle school is tough enough. What if she’s saddled with my double Ds in elementary school? If I don’t hold her, will she spend her entire school career trying to catch up with kids over a year older? I’m convinced I’m going to choose wrong and ruin her life
So like any neurotic person trying to make a life-altering choice, I’ve researched this topic for over a year, asked everyone I know, and posted my dilemma to the internet.
Big mistake.
Everyone—and I mean everyone—has an opinion on this topic. Her pre-K teacher says to wait. One of my best friends, who has a Ph.D. in early childhood development, is dead against waiting. Her pediatrician parroted the same advice I’ve heard countless times: “No one ever regrets waiting, but they regret not waiting.” I’ve had friends look at me as though I’d grown three heads for even suggesting I might hold her back. I’ve spoken with parents who held and those who hadn’t. I’ve heard words of regret, words of encouragement, and a whole steaming heap of judgment.
The judgment surprised me. This is my kid after all. I know her better than anyone as well as the school system she will attend. It reminded me of the heated breastfed vs. formula fed, natural childbirth vs. epidural debates that led to the launch of Just BE Parenting. People felt deeply about this topic. In other words, they got bent.
Someone basically called me an elitist for even considering academic redshirting. I sort of agree with her. Economics played a considerable part in the reason four-year-olds start kindergarten in Appalachia. If I paid over ten or fifteen grand a year for daycare, sending my youngest to kindergarten on time would be far more appealing. I’m fortunate to be a stay-at-home mom and have the financial means to pay for a private transitional kindergarten program should I choose to do so. I recognize this privilege. Still, it stung to be told I was part of the problem with the class divide in the US. It’s hard to hear when it’s your child who could benefit.
“But everyone does it here,” I wanted to yell at this random person on Facebook. “You don’t know what it’s like in this school system!”
In many ways, it’s a classic ethical dilemma: If everyone drove sedans, the roads would be safer. However, if you drive an SUV and have an accident with a sedan, you’re typically better off. If two SUVs collide, there’s no added benefit to having a bigger car. In fact, SUVs are more unstable and prone to rollovers. We’d all be better off if everyone drove sedans. But you don’t want to be the sedan colliding with an SUV. So, people drive SUVs to feel safer.
Academic redshirting has become the SUV of education.
If no one held back their children (except for cases of true developmental delay) the overall effect of a summer birthday would be minimal.
But, if a large enough percentage of children enter Kindergarten at age six, your summer child now becomes over a year younger than his or her classmates. I had visions of a 19-year-old high school senior asking my 14-year-old to homecoming. Because that’s an ACTUAL possibility. My barely 14-year-old will be in the same high school with men and women a year into legal adulthood.
It’s not her fault she was born in late June and will be eight months younger than her classmates with October birthdays (or only four months younger than children not allowed to enter kindergarten because of their age).
Setting aside the months on the calendar, my youngest, while bright, is on the immature side and has a hard time concentrating. She’s a ball of energy and likely ADHD like my older brother. “She’s textbook,” my mom said watching my youngest rocket through the living room in a tutu. (In addition to raising my brother, my mom taught elementary school for decades.) So of course, I researched the impact of academic redshirting and ADHD and lost my mind a little more.
It’s now nearly August, and I’m no closer to making a decision. I’ve even researched private kindergartens, so I have the option to enroll her in first grade next year or send her to public kindergarten. (Prolonging my indecision another year).
Deep down, I know my choice won’t ruin her life (or mine). And while I appreciate the advice I’ve received over the past year—some requested, some not—I know the decision is ultimately mine and her father’s. It comes down to what is best for a particular child, in a particular family. Which, is true for most parenting debates.
My oldest daughter has a May birthday and started kindergarten at age 5. (She was the second to youngest child in her class this year with several classmates a full year older than her). We never considered waiting for kindergarten. If she had an August birthday like mine, I doubt we would have considered it either because she thrives in structured environments like school.
With so many factors at play, I can’t stop my second thoughts. But I know this: Listening to judgmental comments doesn’t help. Offer encouragement or share your experience (not your opinion based on whatever article you read once). Above all, know the decision to redshirt or not is hard and should be met with kindness, not judgment.
Kathryn Hively
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Do what you feel in your heart you should do. That little nag is a mother’s best friend. Say out loud: Okay, I’m sending her! then see how you feel. Then say: Nope, I’m gonna wait, and again, you’ll feel something. Go with the one that feels right. You’ll know.
Not going to pretend I have anything at all to offer towards an answer to your question, but did want to say that I found this to be really well written and completely relatable! I, too, am torn about a school decision. When you’re truly 50/50 there’s no way to go with your heart. So I accumulated as much information as I could, pored over the data, did all the research and made the (same) mistake of reaching out to the hivemind of the interwebs. In the end, I chose the one that was the least messy to undo, had it turned out I made the wrong decision. So I can get some closure. And maybe some sleep. For now 😉