In the morning she will start big school.
I am undone.
Just a few minutes ago I brought back a tiny, squalling bundle from the hospital and the years of leisurely, unformed days stretched ahead of us with no end in sight, or at least not one that could be imagined until today when we visited her classroom and met her teacher, a pleasant but firm lady whose steely glint beneath her coral smile made me feel as if I’d been naughty already and the bell hasn’t even rung yet.
Oh GOD!
I will be blubbering after I leave her there tomorrow, I just know it. And Husband, in his furrow-browed way, will want to give me a lecture on how I should feel glad that she’s growing up and learning which is how he feels about it, blah blah blah and then I will want to kill him, which is most unfair as I’d really rather just experience the sweet sorrow of parting rather than adding murderous rage into the mix.
We came home with a packet of documents and instructions for tomorrow that have made me feel quite faint with horror. It’s bad enough that poor old Five has to go to school every day and cram the multiplication tables and long division into a brain that would rather think about rabbits eating chocolate pies on cloud rockets (verbatim) but now it appears that I am going to be forced to fill in forms and be made to feel inadequate and guilty on a near-daily basis , thus reliving my own early educational experience all over again.
Is it that there is no justice in this world, or is it some kind of divine retribution?
I often feel that other people can see through my rather flimsy veneer of normality and inadequate attempts to conform to social norms (a bit like those aliens in Men in Black who find it hard to contain themselves in human form when a particularly delicious insect flies by or similar ) so sometimes I make rather wild and rash choices – call it a valiant, nay pathetic, attempt to cover up my innate weirdness. Today, when confronted by blackboards and earnest parents who will get their children to school on time and already know what they’re having for dinner tonight (may even have bought it already), I decided to up the ante and in a stunning display of foolish bravado with a side of “she just didn’t think things through” I volunteered to be a classroom helper every Wednesday morning.
Husband looked at me, his jaw gaping. What was I doing? Hadn’t I just been talking about how much I was looking forward to getting some time away from the little ones after a summer of non-stop kiddie-madness? And what was I planning on teaching them? How to be scathing about AmericaniZed grammar (what gave him that idea? But now that he mentioned it I could give them a few pointers..) Have a bit of a rant about “Ten items or LESS/FEWER” (naturally).
He might have had a point about getting away from the children. I had been. But now Five was nearly GONE I was pathetically scrabbling at the door like a dog left out during Christmas dinner. I needed to see how she would do in the class. Get to be a spy and know her friends, and perhaps learn something – how not to hate school, perhaps? I could do with a few pointers there.
Tonight we prepared for the big day tomorrow:
Five laid out her clothes for the morning and was then discovered putting them on before she went to sleep. Excited? A bit.
I made her snack for school, filled in all the forms, located her new backpack, made sure there were batteries in the camera and laid the breakfast table. Then I had a nervous breakdown but I’m better now.
Husband lay on the couch and read a book I’d ordered on Amazon for myself.
Two had a bubble bath, and as I took him out and put him into his pajamas I told him his sister would be starting big school, what did he think?
“Cookies, candy, cake.” he said, confidentially. And after some consideration
“Cup of tea. Kiss”
The boy is a genius.
Off to fill the prescription now.
{ 12 comments }
My little boy not-quite-three is starting too in a week and a half (they start the year they turn three here) and although I am certain I’ll blub my way home after the first day(s), I am also trying to remember how I felt about school. If it’s any small comfort to you – I LOVED IT. I still remember the excitement of gazing at brand new outfits bought for school and waiting restlessly to be worn proudly, new shoes and all…blisters be damned – they’re SHINY!
I remember the thrill of learning new things – of having all that amazing INFORMATION at my fingertips, and all those wonderful teachers who gave me such fun things to do (I still remember the unbelieveable girl-crush I had on Ms. French, my 1st grade teacher…)
Now, we all have different experiences, and there’s no guarantee that Five will enjoy it…but she might, and she just might be one of those extraordinary children who can reconcile cloud rockets and mathematical tables…
Forza, fellow mama, and remind me of all this in a week when I’m freaking out about our first school day 😉
Are there Montessori schools in your area? They might be easier for you to deal with. I think so much self-direction is squashed out of kids these days in schools, it’s a real shame, as that’s what they’ll need to get by when they finally graduate.
But goodluck to you both tomorrow. It’s a very big day.
Good luck, Five. And good luck to you, too. It will probably be ten times worse for you. I loved starting school. Hated the second year (mostly due to an astoundingly horrendous teacher) and spent the rest of my primary years being home-schooled. But I loved the whole learning thing. My mum hated school. In fact, she played truant from nursery school, at the age of three. My dad loved school. My sister loved school. Everyone is different. Here’s hoping that Five will be one of the ones who loves school and embraces all the new things to explore and people to get to know.
Were you at school in the UK or the US as a kid? Because from what I gather, the multiplication etc doesn’t happen quite so early in the US, so perhaps it will be less structured than you dread…? (And on the plus side, she’s excited so I expect you won’t have to leave a sobbing wailing child behind you when you exit the premises, which I can guarantee you is even less fun than you might think…)
Will you be sure to send me a pic of Five in her first day of school dress? xo HB
Potty Mummy is right – Kindergarten is more like advanced preschool. They learn their letters agonisingly slowly, and counting with the speed of a depressed tortoise. The high pressure stuff comes later maybe.
I’ve just been through the same thing with my daughter. Terribly mixed feelings. Doesn’t hurt as much as childbirth did, though. And Four’s prescription is, as you say, genius.
I am sure you will be a wonderful classroom helper. For a start, you are going to be ‘way cooler’ (as they’d say here) than most. I’ve noticed that in America, they want the parents to do far more participating with things like school than in the UK, so you’re sure to score brownie points with the teachers as well – and that can be no bad thing. But know what you mean about school making you nervous. I always feel like a naughty child again when I meet teachers, desperate to make a good impression and worried that somehow, I’ll be found out.
I so enjoyed this post as it reminded me of me! I was one of those inadequate parents, feeling particularly belittled on a daily basis.
Good luck with it all, I’m sure everything will be great fun.
CJ xx
I never know what’s for dinner either, until it’s dinner time. So tonight’s dinner was a surprise of ginger snaps with red wine and a slice of Edamer for dessert. Bliss! (Let me state that no children needed to be fed, so no nutritional harm done. Otherwise I would have replaced the red wine with milk, of course!)
By the way, I have been in Stamford on Monady. I only now realised that you live there.
When my daughter (now 18) was in first grade—at a Catholic school with an Irish nun principal—we once arrived 10 minutes late. This meant she was locked out of her classroom and we had to go to the tardy room to get her a permission slip. The principal showed up, turned to my daughter and said, “Why were you late?” My tiny daughter sighed and said, “Traffic.” The principal said to her [to HER! who DROVE the car, anyway?], “There’s always traffic in Los Angeles. You just have to leave 10 minutes earlier!” My daughter went on to her classroom; I went back to the car and burst into tears. I know what you mean about feeling inadequate. But my daughter thrived in school despite my inadequacies. It sounds like Five is ready to relish the experience—and I think it’s a great idea to volunteer in the classroom. All the best to all of you.
I almost volunteered to be the Room Mom until I asked on Twitter ‘What does a Room Mom do?’ The response was ‘run, don’t walk, run away from being the Room Mom’ which put me off rather.
Hope the first day went well.
Jaime: She LOVES school and adores her teacher who is wonderful. I’m thinking this is going to be good for all concerned. I do feel a bit wobbly still but it’s going to be okay. Good luck with your boy!
Justarabbit: There are Montessori schools, but the expense is crippling in this already hideously pricey town. We have spotted a rabbit living in the hillside on the walk to school yesterday and today!
Tasha: It was definitely worse for me. I think Mrs.K is going to be a gem. Five brought her a gift of autumn leaves today so I think it’s going to be just fine.
P.M. I started schook in the UK at age 4 and it was brutal. The sense of despair at all the WERK. Kindergarten does seem much gentler.
Hollywood Bunny. For sure!
Iota: Today I heard them singing to twenty with a rock and roll cassette. Hmm. I think we were doing fractions by that age. Two and I ate cake all day long yesterday. He was in hog heaven!
NVG. It’s not hard to be way cooler than the other moms from what I can see in the parking lot;) I’m hoping that my report cards this time around will look a bit better.
Crystal Jigsaw. I have been a good mummy and done my forms and my emergency packet already, so anxious am I to do the right thing. I can feel the slide down coming already, though..
MetMum YUM! I’m coming round for supper to yours. THat’s my kind of meal! BTW not in Stamford, in SB.
Susan: Wow, that is HARSH! Those Irish nuns are tough ladies. What happened to Christian forgiveness? Five is loving it and I think I’m going to enjoy the classroom volunteering, too.
Lorna: I’m not, repeat NOT going to be the ‘room mom’. I think they do organisational stuff and liaise with the PTA etc. That is not at all the kind of thing that I do. I will be volunteering as a teacher’s assistant, working directly with the children once per week which I will really like and probably be relatively good at (certainly compared to working directly with a bunch of bossy PTA moms!).
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