Today was the first time I was able to take my kids to their first day of school. For ten of the last twelve years, I have had a first day of school as well, but today I was able to experience it from a parent's perspective.
My husband, who has taken them to every first day of school, dreads it. As he was explaining to me yesterday, "It makes me feel awful and sick to my stomach. It's the worst day of the year." Of course, I assumed he was exaggerating.
My daughter, who's a veteran at elementary school at 9 1/2, bounded off to her fourth grade meeting area, almost without giving us a hug.
My first grader wasn't quite so confident. He'd been putting a good show the last week or so talking about how he didn't want to go back to school and grumbling, "I don't like school," which I assumed he just picked up from me complaining about my job. But last night, he admitted he was nervous and scared and had come up with wild "what if" scenarios that involved recess and his new teacher. Today, as he had a death grip on my hand walking into the school, he mumbled, "My tummy hurts." This is my brave little man, the kid who isn't afraid of anything. (Except spiders and Winnie-the Pooh!)
After approaching the line where his classmates were sitting, he released his death grip on me, and then mauled his father in a bear hug. Eventually, we were able pry his head from his father's shoulder and coax him into his class's line where thankfully, one of his friends had been calling out his name.
We walked away as the lines of first graders began exiting the gymnasium. As a former teacher, I knew he would be okay if we just kept moving away. Parents always make a situation like this worse when they go back to their whimpering child. I didn't glance back until I got to our van, just to make sure he didn't flee the school and chase us across the street and into the parking lot.
As we drove off, I understood why my husband hates this day so much. In previous years, I had been too preoccupied with the anxiety of my own first days of school - worrying about my incoming 7th graders - to spend much time dwelling on theirs; after all, I knew they would be safe in their school once they got over their jitters. Prior to today, I hadn't been in the trenches of the elementary school, staring into those helpless, sad little eyes. I understand what my husband means when he says, "Walking away from them when they're crying and nervous makes me feel like the worst parent on the planet."
We are trying to build strong kids, who will in turn, grow into strong adults. But, like with everything else, there are growing pains - for the kids and the moms and dads. In the end, everything turned out okay - actually better than okay - as both kids came home thrilled about their first day of school....a first grader wearing a goofy, floppy-eared Clifford the Big Red Dog headband and fourth grader with a precisely organized, labeled, three-ring zippered binder with a planner inside.
And the chocolate chip cookies I made in case they needed an after school pick-me-up? They tasted just as good as celebratory cookies.
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