We had worked up to this moment all summer. Making the decision to send Cadence to public school was a hard one, but it was the option most necessary. He is growing up so fast. No one ever prepares a mom for this day. There are no classes for it. No materials that are handed out by the school district. No sermons. Nothing but country songs. I was certainly unprepared.
I drove very slowly the mile and a half trip to Spring Hill Elementary school, one of the top three exclaimed schools in the grand school district of Pflugerville, Texas. That thought comforted me.
“Now remember, Cadence, to say your ‘yes mamas’ and ‘yes sirs’ when an adult talks to you, okay?”
“Yes, mommy,” Cadence is unusually quiet in the back seat.
“Make sure you eat your sandwich first, honey.” I’m trying to see his face in the review mirror as I drive, trying to read his thoughts and feelings. “Are you feeling okay, Cadence?”
“I’m just a little scared.” He admits softly, staring out the window.
“That is so normal, honey. It’s okay you feel that way. Your teacher is a very nice lady and I bet she gives great hugs. It will be so fun to meet new friends and learn so many new things!” I try to act cheery but secretly wonder if maybe I should just not send him to school… ever. Just keep him home. Really, I’m not totally against sheltering my kid from age 0-18. Seems very safe to me. I wouldn’t miss out on anything he does.
“Remember to be a good listener to your teacher. And make wise choices about how you act when you are with your new friends. You know, like we talked about. Do you remember what we talked about with daddy if there is a mean kid on the playground?”
“Yes, mommy.” Cadence relays the necessary information how how to deal with bullies.
“Good. Good.” I am nervous. There is the school. We got here too fast. I remind him what to do if he has trouble in the bathroom. I carefully pull into a parking spot and climb out of the car. Cadence puts on his new backpack and I hand him his lunch. “Cadence, make sure you put the food you don’t eat for lunch back in the lunch box so I know what you’ve eaten, okay?”
“Okay,” he’s smiling now. He walks beside me as we enter the school. Parents and kids are streaming in around us.
“Do you want to hold my hand?” I ask Cadence as we start down the hall.
“Yeah,” he grabs my hand and counts on me for direction.
He really is too young for this. I could still leave now. Pull him out. Say I’m home schooling him. The “first day of school” feeling is heavy in the school hallway, excitement in the air. I see the office staff in the hall, greeting people. What I am about to do sinks deep into me and I continually choke back tears. I’ve never been on this side of it before… being the parent and not the teacher. I’m on new ground and completely unsure of how to handle my emotions. I’d never cried on a first day of school before.
We turn the corner and head toward his room. Excited, young, kindergarten teachers are greeting their new students. Mrs. Lau is all smiles when Cadence arrives. I help him move a lunch magnet, hang his bag, find his seat. There is an activity on his desk awaiting him and I feel proud of the teacher for thinking of that. He gets right into it after the teacher explains what to do. I guess I don’t need to help him.
“I’m going to go now, okay Cadence?”
“Okay.” He seems fine. He likes this activity. He isn’t going to cry. I think he’ll be okay. I hope he can get all the little food items out of the baggies by himself. Hopefully someone will help him with his shoes if they come off. Worried thoughts.
“Do you want to give me a kiss and a hug?” Cadence reaches over and hugs me tightly, kisses me on the lips only the way my own child can do. He goes back to the activity.
I back away slowly and exit his class. My feet get stuck right outside the classroom and I stand there for a few minutes looking in at Cadence, at his table following directions perfectly. I can’t move. That lump in my throat explodes and I am crying opening. The principle comes by and asks how I’m doing then offers to call me during the day to let me know how Cadence is fairing at school. I whisper a thank you and pull my legs away to leave the school. Other moms seem to be sniffling too. Maybe I am not quite as unusually as I thought.
I get in the car and explode in sobs remembering my little Cadence boy growing from baby to toddler to boy. He’s trying to be a man like his daddy and more and more often I get little glimpses of the man he will be. He makes good choices, asks good questions, other people like him. He is such an incredible little boy. No one told me being a parent on the first day of kindergarten would be so dramatic. No one tells you when you are rocking an infant, cleaning the messes of a toddler, chasing a 3 year old around the playground, that one day you won’t know every little thing that happens in your child’s day. No one reminds you that all the things you teach a child he’ll eventually have to live out all on his own at the young age of five; or that you’ll worry he’ll forget all the precious things you taught him when he is in the care of teachers. When I was a teacher it annoyed me, but now I finally understand how parents think their child is extra special. Well mine is. Does the teacher know? Maybe I should tell her…
