The first day of school, my daughter waved me off, barely giving me a peck goodbye. She had found her place. Finally. She was three, surrounded by friends, books, toys, and learning. There was activity and attention. Cloud nine.
All year, she has loved school. Loved her wonderful teacher, Miss Jenny. Loved her classmates, especially S. Loved to learn. She sings songs, tells me stories, points out characters and uses phrases like “that is quite small”. All year, on days she has school (only twice a week), she wakes up extra early, too excited to keep sleeping. She races to get their first and eats everything they put on her plate.
Today, was the last day of school for her. The school actually ends next week, but we will be away. S has already taken off on vacation. Today, she did not wake up extra early. She lagged in the house, changing clothes multiple times and begging to go back to bed. As we drove to school she complained, “I don’t want to go to school. I want to go home. Then Mommy and I will put back on pajamas and go back to bed. That is what I want. I do not want to go to school”.
Out of the car, she turned around and started walking home. With her bike, I was able to coax her down the path to school. Except, by the time we were at her classroom, she was at it again. She said she was tired. She said she didn’t want to go to school. She tried to leave. And then it happened. Melt down. Tears on her cheeks, Miss Jenny picked her up so I could say goodbye. I did. I left. She was fine. In fact, it was a fun day of school.
But, I wasn’t ready for it. Her first day and every subsequent day had taught me that my daughter would love life and school so much, that she would be able to let go. Today she couldn’t. It was harder then I expected.