Day one was as expected: lots of nervousness and excitement for us (well, me) and Luke, and all the other kids and parents were in the same situation. It was the big first day for everyone. I snapped lots of pictures (see below) to commemorate the moment
But today, on this third day of school, without a camera in hand, hit me hard. I realized as soon as I walked back through the door after dropping off Luke, that while I had no photographic evidence of today's milestone, I must write about the experience of today, and put in words, as best I can, the emotional impact.
On the school memo, it was asked that parents encourage the children to begin the day in the school play yard. Beginning today, we were to drop off our children to this area, and they would line up and enter the school building once the bell rings to mark the start of the school day. I prepped Luke during breakfast that we would do this, and that I would stay with him as he needed. He seemed really fine about it, which surprised me somewhat, and began to talk to me about a game he and his P7 buddy had been playing in the play yard.
Fast forward to drop off: we go through the school hand-in-hand, and exit into the play yard. Luke seems somewhat nervous, so I chat with him about the plan: I will stay with him until he finds his buddy or it is time to line up. We stand awkwardly near the doors when a P5 girl comes over and asks his name and if she can help find his buddy. (I, of course, was immediately charmed by this girl and her kindness.) I chatted with her, since Luke suddenly became silent and shy, almost hiding behind my back as we talked. Because Luke does not remember his buddy's name and cannot describe what he looks like, we are no closer to finding him through the help of this nice little girl.
After a few minutes, some more P1 children and their mums arrive in the play yard. Eventually, Luke and I head off, still hand-in-hand, to look for his buddy. After arriving at the opening of the football pitch, we see the kind P5 girl again, who asks if we've had any luck. At that moment, a boy about 11 years old appears with a huge smile, saying "Hiya, Luke!" Luke brightens immediately, as I introduce myself to this confident boy (whose name is Callum, by the way). Before I know it, Luke extracts his hand from mine, and takes the one Callum has offered, and off to the football pitch they go, Luke holding Callum's hand and skipping to the farthest goal post.
I find it hard to describe the way I felt at that moment. It was a mix of so many complex emotions that I think I may not have the words to accurately frame the experience. In a moment, I felt both joy (at Luke's happiness and the choice of this nice young man as his buddy) and fear (of whether he will be safe on a pitch with quite bigger kids). I felt excitement for the fun Luke would have playing the game with big boys, and angst over whether he would feel nervous playing a game he doesn't understand. I was also thrilled that he was no longer clinging to me in fear, but I had another difficult-to-articulate thought that made me feel quite sad. It wasn't that I felt obsolete or superfluous, but I felt a pang of sadness that felt a little like loneliness. Here was the boy I had with me for these past five-and-a-half years, joyously skipping away from me, moving toward something different, something apart from me.
It seems I don't have the right to feel sad at this (but I'm learning not to judge my emotions, so I won't linger here too much...) since for so long, I have been looking forward to moving away from the baby stage and into childhood. It isn't that I want to wish time away, but I personally found the baby and toddler years hard (yes, I know all parenting is hard, but I really struggled quite a lot to hold it together in those years). I know these school-age years come with their own challenges and heartaches, but these are also the years I've anticipated for the interactions and relationships we can have. So how could I be sad when this is what I've been wanting? I don't know. I only know that emotions are complex things that I don't fully understand, and that sometimes the most meaningful and memorable moments we encounter are those that come with such an array of feelings that words couldn't possibly explain the depth of the experience.
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| Some photos from the first day of school |
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| All ready to go and looking up to his Daddy |
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| Playing in the big P1 room |
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| Playing with K'NEX as parents leave the room |
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| I kept snapping photos as I walked out, and was somewhat surprised that Luke didn't turn around and look for us. |
Update from the morning of August 31: We have had a week of school that has gone really well. It has been wonderful that Luke has started school with excitement. He seems to be enjoying his time at school, and most days, reports (at least a little) about what he has learned. He has told us he has at least two friends from his class. He has really enjoyed the lunches he gets to choose from the school cafeteria. Each morning's drop off looks similar to the one I described above, and the emotional intensity has lessened for me. I am now looking forward to next week, when Luke will stay for the whole day (9 a.m. until 3 p.m.), which coincides with Maggie's nursery schedule.
(And I will be sharing tidbits from Maggie's nursery experiences in a future blog post as well.)
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