Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Kindergarten Chronicles, Part 1

OK, I need to chronicle our school year.  It's the night before her first day.  Please excuse this brain dump.

Didn't get the Kleenex, resealable bags, or Lysol wipes from the supply list (but have everything else).  Will have to talk to the teacher about the latter two items b/c I don't want to buy them, and think the school could be more environmentally responsible, and will ask the teacher about that tomorrow.  I'd rather send a bottle of Green Works and rolls of paper towels (compostable, at least), but we'll see what happens.

I tried to talk up tomorrow without upsetting her.  Often when she's tired, even the most fun events can be upsetting to her the night before.  So I stayed excited but not over the top. 

This afternoon I had that vision.  That vision of my tiny daughter with her huge (on her) backpack walking up the sidewalk to her classroom.  The vision of my tiny daughter making friends outside those she has at the day care and in our circle of friends.  The vision of my daughter flourishing, on her own, outside the little world she knows today.  The vision of my little girl growing up.  The vision of myself sobbing as I head back home after dropping her off because this is a new world for both of us, and she will have the upper hand, and an intimate knowledge of that world, moreso than I.  She will master this new world long before I will. 

This is now her world.  This is her chance to explore, enjoy, and thrive.  She will blossom like the delicate flowers we planted this spring from seed, which are vibrant and full of life today, just as she.  I know many can relate to the power of what I'm feeling, I just can't effectively put it into words.  Nor can I believe that this ton of bricks is coming down on me like it is.  I've clearly been in denial for quite a while.

I'm not the weepy type, and I don't like to admit that I will probably cry tomorrow.  I'm not sure why I'm trying to convince myself not to cry tomorrow.  Parents send their kids off to school all the time, this is not the first time it's ever happened.  She'll live.  I'll live.  We'll go through this at different school year milestones.  I feel kind of silly to those who have gone before me and sent their kids off, I feel like I shouldn't cry or be emotional, because those before me have already shed those tears.  I should just suck it up.  Afterall, I know we'll all be fine, and I know everyone gets through it.  So why the tears?

But that's the thing.  The tears are coming.  They just are.  The calendar didn't speed up on the 26th of November 2004, or the 3rd of March 2007.  Time has always passed at the same rate.  So why does it seem like these last nearly six years are such a blur?  Why does it feel like we just brought her home?  Why does it feel like kindergarten just snuck up on me?

I am foreshadowing, anticipating that school will be stressful for her as it was for me.  I don't have my own shit together, how can I be an effective parent and guide for her on this journey through school? 

OK, I need to stop there.  I'm driving myself mad. I will keep my kindergarten chronicle here and document our progress throughout the year.  I really hope to have my shit together enough to keep an accurate journal of our time in kindergarten, and throughout grade school.

Until tomorrow...

2 comments:

  1. A few weeks ago I drove past the neighborhood school. I began sobbing at the thought of sending H to kindergarten. I mean, crying so hard and so long, I had to pull to the side of the road. Here's the kicker, he doesn't start until 2012. I'm terrified to send him "away" to some strange lady's classroom for a half day. And, um, I'm a teacher! Ethel is your first born, she is the baby you dreamed of. She is the child who made you a mother. Of course this giant transition of sending her out into the unknown is going to be fraught with emotion. You will get through it, one day at a time. You are still her mom. You are still her mom.

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