I sent my beautiful daughters off to school today. This is the one day of the year that usually brings me to my knees. I now have a fourth grader and a second grader. I’m so proud of them but if I’m to be honest, it breaks a small piece of my heart. Every year I feel as if I am sending them off into the unknown. I feel as if I’m losing another piece of their childhood. As much as I try to cherish every moment, I can feel it slipping through my fingers, piece by piece, year by year.
I always try to remember that I’m not alone. Every single parent is going through the exact same thing as I am. It’s a blessing to have children that are growing up, becoming their own people, learning new things and embracing their own futures.
My oldest daughter says her goodbyes to me on the playground and proudly walks off to the fourth grade portable. My youngest is filled with anxiety and the back to school jitters. I almost can’t blame her for her nerves, the sea of students and parents is overwhelming. In her classroom, I see her struggling. There is fear and uncertainty in her eyes. This is where I pull myself together and tell her that she can do this. There is a secret place within me that wants to just walk her out of that school and take her home with me.
Her teacher is already aware of her struggles and quickly takes her hand. She then hands off a little boy to me who is in tears. I’m a substitute for the school district so often times, I end up helping out even when I’m not working. This boy is trembling with nerves, his eyes are glassy with tears and he’s clutching his backpack. He was standing in the wrong line and followed the wrong class. He’s lost and has completely forgotten who his teacher is.
My daughter sees all this and she understands that she isn’t alone in her fear. This boy needs me more than she does. I tell the boy my name and that I work for the school. I assure him that I will help him find his teacher and that he has nothing to worry about. He takes my hand and I walk him down to the office. We find out his room number and teacher. The assistant secretary gives me a panicked look and I already know what she’s hoping I’ll do. I tell her that I’ll walk him to his classroom. She thanks me.
By the time we are going up the staircase, he has stopped trembling. He’s smiling and chatting with me. Once we hit the first grade wing, he starts recognizing his friends. I drop him off at his classroom and wish him a wonderful first day. He gives me one last big smile. My heart goes from devastation to pure happiness. I may have helped him but he also helped me. He reminded me of why I’m a mother. Why I live and breathe for the lives and well-being of children.
I’m choosing to consider the joy not the sadness. I’m pushing my daughters onward because they need to be pushed. It’s my job to teach them, to encourage them and to help them rise above their fears. I can’t hold them back because of my own selfish desire to keep them young. It’s a privilege to watch them grow.
