Kindergarten: Magically Frightening

I’m staring down the end of a barrel. In three days, the trigger will be pulled and I will be standing out in the dawning light at 6:40 am awaiting a big yellow school bus to come take my baby away. Just imagining the benign scene that will play out for millions of children and parents in the next few weeks brings tears to my eyes. Typing it out puts a lump in my throat.

Now, this overly emotional reaction to the first day of school is not new for me. When I stopped teaching, I started taking a walk on the first day of school and watch those excited/nervous clean children board the bus and I still had the lump and misty eyes, despite the fact that I didn’t know those children.

But, I know this child. She’s my child.

I’ve never understood the parents who got so emotional over the first day of Kindergarten, and here I am. What is it about Kindergarten? I used to teach Kindergarten! Ella’s been going to school five days a week since she was 2 1/2. Ella rode the bus to/from one of her programs. There is nothing about this that is new to me.

But, I know this child. She is my child.

There’s something about making that leap to elementary school. Now the schooling is state mandated, not voluntary. Ella is getting so big and independent. Suddenly, I won’t be the person in charge of the flow of the majority of her waking day. I won’t know what’s going on in her world, unless she invites me in. No more daily face-to-face connection with her classroom teacher. My baby is leaving the nest. There’s so much more I wanted to teach her. Where did the time go?

But, I know this child! She is my child!

I know that this transition may be frightening for me, but my little Ella is completely capable and ready. She may stumble and have some trepidation or tears, but she always takes a deep breath, fixes her gaze ahead and takes the first step. Now I have to model myself after my Kindergartener. On Monday morning, I will take a deep breath, look ahead and take that first step out to the bus stop. I will swallow my lump and hold back my tears, I will put a genuine smile on my face and remember: Kindergarten is a magical year, filled with amazing experiences.

Our bases are covered. School supplies are purchased. First day outfit is ready. Ella has a fifth grade neighbor girl who has volunteered to walk to our bus stop on the first day to help Ella on. Lily and I will pile into my car after the bus leaves and head to the school so we can see Ella get off…the school has graciously made this level of stalking more acceptable by hosting “Kinder Coffee” that morning, so we can all be paparazzi without having to consciously acknowledge we’re crazy. Ella is armed with an IEP and a Kindergarten teacher with a Special Ed background. She’s used to eating in a school cafeteria. Ella knows how to navigate those big bus stairs, has to sit in the front of the bus and has to be met by an adult at the bus stop (per district rules).

We’ve got this. We’ve been practicing for this day for years. It’s game time. Now if I could just find my game face…