My middle daughter is making the transition to kindergarten this year. She’s been having a bit of a rough time, having set her sights on staying home with mommy instead of going to school.
This brings up a question: I wonder what she thinks I do during the day? Our summertime schedule included lots of visits to the park and the pool and other fun excursions. I wonder whether she thinks I’m at the park, playing in the sand all by myself or wishing I had someone to push on the swings.
Anyway, back to the story. She started Monday. So far, every night she has asked me to let her know when school will end… as if it will not be the one constant in her life for the next 20 to 25 years. Every night there have been tears, pleas to not go back, and refusals to continue. And every night I have reassured her that it will get better and that we need to go back and try every day.
I thought, as we discussed the day’s events before bedtime last night, how amazing it is that I have someone in my life who loves me so much that she actually cries when she is away from me. I don’t think I’d ever thought about it that way before. What a truly miraculous thing her love is.
Even for me, it’s so hard to be new and to be away from those I care most about. My natural tendency is to stick with the familiar, the known, the comfortable. When I have to go outside of my comfort zone it takes a lot of energy.
I can imagine what it might be like for her. Surrounded by others who probably miss their own mommies and who occasionally break down in tears. Having to learn things like sitting still and lining up, when in the past these things were never needed. Learning to be patient, to share, and to be quiet. I’ve never mastered those three myself.
This morning we arrived, and the beauty of kindergarten kicked in.
Two of her classmates, both of them also close to tears this morning, gave her hugs. Her teachers — two amazing women whom I’m so thankful for — welcomed her with smiles that were just right for the moment, took her hand, and calmly led my little basket of nerves over to her other classmates.
In a couple of minutes she was going into the school with her classmates for another day of adventure — which I can hardly wait to hear about this afternoon. I know we may cry more, but we’ll keep at it.
That’s the beauty of kindergarten. We make big changes but we don’t dwell on what’s wrong. We get on with the having fun part, and we see all the changes as part of the adventure.
Hope all is well in your world. Have a great day, and a great adventure. (And Ms. G and Ms. W — thank you for being so wonderful).
-liz
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