Postscript: When I arrived at school in the blazing mid-August afternoon heat to pick up my daughter, I spotted her outside in a sea fourth-graders. Then, I saw a brownish geyser erupt at least 30 feet into the air. It was a first-day-of-school experiment chronicling what happens when you blend Diet Coke with Mentos. People, this is going to be a good year. When I asked my daughter how the day went, she said, “It’s funner than third grade.” We can work on grammar later.
Fourth grade. So far, so good. Somehow we made it on time – early, in fact – even though the alarm clock failed to go off (I blame the unseen gremlins). My daughter ate a decent breakfast with some coaxing, though she quickly uncovered our stealth attempt to swap out regular waffles with a flax seed version and refused to eat them.
We missed the meet-the-teacher event Friday because we were returning from a camping trip at Mt. Princeton, which added to an anxiety that has been building for days about starting school. Still, I wouldn’t trade those last summer days swimming in hot springs fed pools, biking in the dirt and reeking of campfire smoke for anything.
She set out an outfit to wear today – a frilly skort and T-shirt that says “only 5 minutes until recess.”
This is the first year that she has dreaded starting school. She wonders why school can’t take place only in February. She sees no point in it. I guess we’re not showing her that the adult world is all that much fun.
First day day jitters for the child – and the mom
Her stress about school also has to do with the social pressures that are beginning to surface among girls of her age. It is amazing to me that an 8-year-old already knows who’s in the “in” crowd, who is to be avoided at all costs, and who is to be tolerated. It pains me to watch her try so hard to fit in.
On the plus side, we are committed to biking to school, so my husband, daughter and I all rode to school today getting there in plenty of time to find her classroom, which is right next to the school gardens where giant sunflowers tilt their yellow heads as if to say “good morning.” Tomorrow, she will bike to school with a neighbor and this may just be the year she and a friend bike to school on their own – without over-zealous parents tailing them, barking orders. Sadly, she asked me to cut the white basket off the front of her bike this morning because it seemed too “babyish.” I dutifully snipped it off.
A good teacher is all you need
She has her first male teacher this year – a kind, gentle soul who I’ve heard nothing but positive things about. We knew all but two kids in line from previous years. Some look as if they’ve grown 2 feet over the summer. There is comfort in familiarity for her – and for me. Ever the sentimental one, I still see them the way they looked in kindergarten. Squat. Bewildered. Cute as buttons. Unaware of fashion or Victoria Justice. Oblivious to cliques.
As always, I will volunteer some time in the classroom this year. That way, perhaps I can help her rediscover a sense of ease and joy about school and learning – and better understand the social dynamics that are already in the works. The challenge will be finding the tools to help her feel comfortable and secure in her own skin. Time to look in the mirror and make sure I am completely comfortable in mine.
P.S. Undoubtedly, I will arrive at 2:30 p.m. today to pick up a happy, excited fourth-grader, and my worries will have been for naught. Isn’t that how it always works? Yes, it is. See note above.
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