Red Shirting a June Birthday: What I Learned As A Mom And Kindergarten Teacher
I was leaning against my minivan after Leo’s preschool conference, brushing crumbs of goldfish crackers off my notebook, when the director’s question kept looping in my head: “Have you thought about red shirting? He’s a June birthday, most families we work with at least consider it.”
I’ve been a kindergarten teacher for 11 years, so I know all about the red shirting conversation. I’ve had it with dozens of parents, almost always when their kid has a birthday between May and July, right before most districts’ September 1 cutoff. But I never thought I’d be the one sitting on the other side of the table, twisting my car keys, wondering if I should hold my own 4-year-old back a year before kindergarten.
Over the years, I’ve seen every outcome. Two years ago, I had a red-shirted June boy in my class whose parents held him back to make him a bigger starting linebacker for future football teams. He’d already mastered all the letter recognition, counting, and basic writing we taught in kindergarten the year before he was supposed to start. By October, he was coloring on his desk, disrupting circle time, and complaining that everything was “boring.” He spent the whole year checking out, and it took until first grade for him to re-engage with school. I’ve also had a tiny June girl who started kindergarten on time, couldn’t name more than three letters the first day, and cried at drop off every morning for three weeks. By January, she was leading our reading group, and now she’s in second grade testing for the gifted program.
What no one talks about much is how arbitrary the cutoff is, and how much of a difference three months makes when you’re 5. A June birthday puts you at the very youngest end of your kindergarten class, almost a full year younger than the oldest kids born the previous September. That gap shows, at least at first. But the assumption that all June birthdays need red shirting is just that—an assumption.
After the conference, I drove to pick Leo up from the playground, where my mom was pushing him on the swings. He ran to the car covered in mulch, chattering about the dinosaur he’d found half-buried under the slide. That night, my husband and I sat on the couch after Leo went to bed, and pulled out a notebook. I didn’t want to make this decision based on what the director said, or what our neighbors did with their June birthday kid. I’d seen too much to do that.
I made three specific questions to work through, instead of asking the vague “is he ready?” that everyone throws around. First: Can he follow two-step directions without getting distracted halfway through? Second: Does he ask for help when he’s stuck, instead of shutting down or throwing a fit? Third: Can he keep up with other kids his age in unstructured play, both physically and socially? That’s it. I never cared about whether he could count to 100 or write his name before kindergarten—those are things we teach, not requirements.
We watched Leo for a month, and asked his preschool teacher to weigh in on the three questions. He got a yes on directions, a yes on playing with other kids (he’s the first to invite the shy kid to build block towers), and a no on asking for help. If he can’t get a Lego brick to click, he’d rather throw the whole set across the room than ask someone to help. But we both knew that’s a skill kids learn at school, not something they have to bring with them. We also took a morning to go sit in on the kindergarten class he’d attend, just to watch for 45 minutes during center time. We saw the teacher working with a group of kids who couldn’t write their names yet, and realized that no one expects entering kindergarteners to have all the skills down. That took most of the pressure off.
We decided to send him on time. I’ve had other teacher friends with June birthdays who decided to hold theirs back, and it’s worked out great for their kids—one has a son who was always smaller than his peers, and the extra year let him catch up physically and gain the confidence he needed. It’s not a moral failure if you choose red shirting, and it’s not a bad choice if you don’t. The biggest mistake I see parents make is defaulting to the trend for June birthdays, instead of looking at their actual kid.
If you’re debating this right now, there are a few concrete things that help, besides the three questions I used. First, actually go sit in on a local kindergarten class for 30 minutes. You’ll see exactly what daily life looks like for those kids, and you can compare that to what your kid does every day. Second, ask your preschool teacher for three specific strengths and three specific things your kid still works on, not just a generic “he’s ready” or “he’s not ready.” Third, remember that it’s easier to support a kid who’s a little young than it is to fix boredom for a kid who’s already learned everything. Most districts will let you retain a kid after kindergarten if it’s really not working out, but it’s almost impossible to move a red-shirted kid up a grade if they’re bored.
Halfway through Leo’s kindergarten year, I still have moments of doubt. He still mixes up his b’s and d’s, forgets his lunch box at least once a week, and can’t write his last name without help. But he also comes home every day talking about his new best friend, helped a new kid find the bathroom on his second week of school, and got student of the week last month for being the kindest kid in class. Last week he brought home a drawing of our family, with his name scrawled at the bottom where every letter except the first was backwards. He ran over to me, grinning, and asked if we could hang it on the fridge.
Some nights I still stare at his birth certificate, June 12, and wonder if we made the right call. But right now, he’s happy, he’s learning, and he’s proud of his backwards letters. That’s enough. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer for a June birthday, just the answer that fits your kid.
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