Today, my kids had their first day of school and many tears
were shed. Wait… you think I meant THEIR tears? No… THEY were fine. It was MY
tears that I’m talking about.
It’s not like it’s their first school experience, they were
in morning preschool last year. And it was a great experience. This year they
in are in a new school, but it’s still just pre-school. The fact that it
happens to be housed in an elementary school is incidental.
So, WHY, you ask is this year different?
It all began in the morning, when I was preparing the kids
for school. My daughter insisted on wearing her new backpack all morning, she
was so excited.
We had to buy new backpacks because the new school asks for
a binder to be carried in the bag and their tiny toddler backpacks weren’t big
enough for a full sized binder. It was time for an upgrade. Sigh.
In the past, I would have gone to the store and picked out the
backpacks myself, after the kids were in the bed. But they are 3.5 now and they
have opinions. Big ones. So, we went to Target as a family to pick them out. My
son first chose the Spiderman one, but quickly switched when he found the
orange and camouflage dinosaur one that truly stole his heart. My daughter, who
had been happily toting a cute Dora backpack, dropped it like a bad habit when
she spotted the black, sequin backpack that was ultimately her final choice. Really
kid? Are you 3 or 13?
I was more impacted by the choice of backpacks than I
expected to be. At first I thought it was just watching them make choices for
themselves, big kid choices. But then I realized that it was also the size of
the backpack. Seriously, the bag is bigger than the kid. Good thing we aren’t
going to fill it with anything heavy. They might fall over.
On the drive to school, I talked excitedly to the kids about
the day to come. I reminded them that they had seen their classroom last week,
at orientation, and that they would love their teachers. I reminded them that I
wasn’t going to bring them to their classroom this time, that I their teachers
would be waiting for us outside the school instead.
I should have listened to that catch in my throat when I
talked about the drop off process. I should have known that it would have a
greater impact on me than I anticipated.
And here’s how it went…
1- Mommy
pulls up in front of the school, sees teachers and waves
2- Mommy
gets out of the car and lets the kids out.
3- Mommy
hands bags to kids, hugs and kisses kids.
4- Teacher
walks kids inside, holding their hands.
5- Mommy
climbs into car and drives away crying.
And that was when it hit me. They are wading into the big
world as little people. They aren’t babies anymore. Symbolically and literally, they are carrying
bags too big for their little bodies, preparing to grow into them. Just like
their world. Amazing that a simple curb drop off brought on all that deep
thought.
And in my heart, I know that this image will be forever
etched in my mind. My children,
backpacks and no faces, holding hands with their teacher. Walking away from me,
their oversized backpacks bouncing against the backs of their little legs as
they move excitedly forward. Leaving me behind. Entering a classroom that is
theirs, not mine. A world where I am the visitor.
I am going to be so embarrassing when my kids get on a
school bus. And have a school play. And graduate. Sigh. Someone remind me to
hold off on makeup that day. And bring tissues. Lot of ‘em.
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