After about three months of worry and anticipation yesterday was finally the big day. Av, at 18-months, had her first day of school. It was the first time she had ever spent time away from us with someone that wasn't a grandparent or close friend or relative, and most of those times we have waited until she went to bed to leave. Yeah. It went about as well as one would expect for both sides.As you can see from the picture above she was adorably dressed for her first day, and we created the false hope in our minds that she was excited about it. We had taken her to visit the classroom, at the new YMCA in Marblehead, and she seemed to have a good time. She was in to the other kids and last time we were there she seemed like she didn't particularly want to leave. We did not take in to consideration, however, that we were still with her the entire time on those previous visits.
I don't know if any of you have ever been to the YMCA at 8:30 in the morning before, but the place is a zoo. There were literally dozens of children and their aristocratic parents bustling in and out. Some were excited, others were crying. One boy on the way in was even punching his mom because he didn't like his class. This was all very overwhelming to Av but she held it together. It was overwhelming to me, too. I also held it together. She held my hand on the walk in and we eventually made it down the endless hall to her classroom. I felt about as nervous as I felt walking in to middle school for the first time, which I think was the one year I was more nervous than any other going to school.
The thing about this class is that it is kind of half nursery school half daycare. A lot of the kids are like Av and only go for a few hours a week, but there are other ones who are abandoned by their parents every morning and not picked up until the afternoon. Av recognized the place having been there before and as soon as we walked through the door she went over and started to play at one of the tables. This put both Monica and I at ease.
Monica was a nervous wreck for weeks leading up to the first day, constantly questioning whether this was a mistake and picturing Av's sad little face when she left her alone in that room. I didn't tell her this, because I have to be the manly voice of reason (or something like that) but I was probably feeling worse. As a kid I was always terrified of being abandoned- I am not sure why, I never really had any reason to be other than my mom being late for everything- but it bothered me nonetheless. I pictured Av with that feeling and it made me sad. She is a very emotional child anyway, and she is weird. I worried about all of the kids making fun of her. You know, because 1-year-old's do that, right? So to stay strong, if you will, I just thought of the attitude my dad always had when my mom was upset, like when she followed the bus to school and wept for the entire three hour drive to college. He just told me he was proud of me and he was happy that I was growing up. I deserved it. I tried to feel the same way about Av. Like I was happy that she was going because she loves to be around other kids. I wasn't happy. I just wanted to stay over in the corner of the room in case she got scared. But I didn't.
As we spoke with her teacher and signed her in Av flocked over to another kid and started to play. The teacher commented that it was nice to see a kid come in and not be afraid and be open to the new experience, or something like that. We were impressed and comforted. We said 'goodbye' to her and waved. She looked at us kind of blankly and started playing again. 'Well,' I thought as we walked down the hall. 'That couldn't have gone better.'
Monica cried on the walk back to the car and I avoided getting sad myself by trying to comfort her. We went home where she proceeded to compulsively clean the apartment like a crazy person for the next four hours. This place has never been cleaner. I kind of did the same, taking the trash to the curb and separating the recycling two days early, making errand runs and flooding my mind with useless Internet articles. The time didn't fly, but pretty soon it was noon and, without discussion, we both agreed to just go get her a half hour early. I can't speak for what Monica was feeling, but I hated the entire time she was gone. I thought about her getting sad, or her getting in trouble for something. I thought about how she must have felt when she realized we were gone and how she was probably asking herself when we were coming back. I was glad she was in school, because it is good for her, but I was just worried about her fragile emotions.
We walked back through the chaos to the classroom and peeked through the glass. We saw a baby sleeping in the back and watched through the window as our child walked over, poked her, and woke her up. We both found this to be hysterical. She made a friend and she didn't want her to go to sleep. That is adorable. As we walked in to the classroom expecting her to have had a good day the teacher informed us that she had 'a little bit of a hard time' after she realized we were gone. Apparently, she didn't quite get the fact that we were leaving when we said goodbye. I knew that was way too smooth. Av was so happy to see us, in fact, that when she noticed us from across the room she welled up, scrunched her face and fought off tears of joy as she ran in to Monica's arms.
Her daily report card read that she was upset in the morning and 'neutral' during the day. The smiley face was not circled at all. She was never happy. The teachers told us that she did fine and that a lot of kids get upset on the first day. We both knew that she probably screamed at the top of her lungs for about two hours and then just made the best of it until we got back. She barely even ate lunch, probably because she was so nervous.
This is where my anxiety really kicked in. What if the teachers weren't that nice to her when she was crying? What if they think we are bad parents? What if she misbehaved? Monica said I was crazy, but it really, really bugs me. In order for this school thing to work she is going to have to fall in love with one of those ladies. I just hope they were sweet and understanding. They have a lot of kids there, I don't know if I could be if it were me. So, I proceeded to feel terrible for the rest of the day and I am now convinced that she is traumatized. This morning she wouldn't let either one of us out of her sight. We left to go to the park a few hours ago and she was taking inventory all the way to the car. 'Mommy? Daddy? Mommy? Daddy?' Just making sure we were all there. Worse, she won't stop clutching her juice and her snack. Monica says she was too nervous to eat at school, but now I wonder if she was scared that other kids would take it, or if she was scared to ask the teacher for it. She didn't get mad at us for taking her, but I pretty much think that she never, ever wants to go back. To be honest, I don't really want to take her back. I have to bring her alone on Monday. I don't know how I feel about that. We decided that we have to say a longer goodbye and help her understand better. If I have to leave her there crying I am not going to be OK.
Anyway, I know I am being a girl about the whole situation. It is just weird how kids mess with your emotions. Monica and I decided that we would give it two weeks and if she still didn't have any smiley faces circled on her report card at the end of the day we would pull her out and enroll her in some sort of play group or library activity where she can still be with one of us. Yeah, that won't do anything to help my anxiety, but I'd rather freak out about my own social interactions with parents then freak out about my kid crying in school. In case I haven't mentioned this, parenting is f-ing hard.
Here is a picture of her kick ass elephant backpack. That is all for today. I am off to erase this from my memory...
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