I am no longer a student, but I am surrounded by students. At home, talking to my sister as she gets ready for her new year and a roomful of eager third graders. On the way to work, passing by all the kids waiting for the school bus- and getting stuck behind a few. At work, listening to the graduate students getting ready for a new semester of classes. I miss the days when summer felt like a vacation- even if it was a working vacation- because it was a break from classes, and books, and studying. It makes me feel old, to be an onlooker in the back to school craze.
In recent years, the only way "summer" has affected me is by altering my child care arrangements. The first summer after Juliette was born, the summer of ’03, I went back to work just as my sister started her summer vacation. So, naturally, I asked her to watch my daughter. And again the next summer. The following year, the summer of ’05, Cosette was a newborn, and my sister was busy with other things (nothing important, just getting married and going on a honeymoon). That was the summer the girls started daycare. They stayed in daycare all summer, all the next year, and all the next summer. ’06 was the first year when summer really and truly blended in with the rest of the year. It was hotter, the days were longer, but the routine didn’t change from one month to the next. And you know what? That was no fun. Not for me, and not for them. I craved summer and its lazy long days. I wanted my daughters to know that feeling of freedom, to feel the excitement of endless days with nothing to do but frolic and play. How sad for my two and four year olds not to know what Summer with a capital S was. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take that long off at work (ah, what a dream). So I did the next best thing. I hired a nanny. She worked for us four days a week, and it was heaven. Juliette kept talking about how she was special, and even though the other kids at daycare didn’t get a ‘cation she got to stay home and play with her sister. For the first time in their young lives the girls spent a large majority of their days together, and they have become so much closer. I enjoyed not having to rush around in the mornings, or at the end of the work day, and tried not to think about the fact that I was paying my nanny so much per week that I was practically just signing over my own paycheck.
This morning, it hit me. Wham, bam, this is why September stinks. The nanny is back in school and only with us part time. This means the girls are back in daycare three days a week. This morning, Juliette asked me “What are we doing today” and I hated to have to say “Today you go to school.” Her response? “Noo, mommy, I don’t want to!” Cosette just threw herself on the floor, in dramatic two year old fashion, and wailed “I don’t want Dagmar!” (Dagmar is her teacher).
I finally did get the girls, and all their gear, loaded into the car and managed to get onto the road- in front of the approaching school bus. As we passed all the groups of kids waiting for their buses, I realized that this time next year, Juliette would be one of those kids. My Juliette! Will she like school? Will she be afraid to go on the bus by herself? Will she know where to go once she arrives at the school? Will she get on the right bus when it is time to come home again? In the space of two minutes, and one full year in advance, I found myself seized with anxiety at the thought that my daughter will soon be old enough to go out into the world without me there to hold her hand every minute of the way.
“Juliette! Look at all the school buses. Next year you will take a school bus to kindergarten!”
“Will it be your school?”
“Yes, it will.” Oh, yes, we are moving. Moving back to the town where I grew up. I did not go to kindergarten there, only (!) first through twelfth grades. It is like an out of body experience to think that my daughter will be going to my elementary school, where I remember walking through the halls as a little girl. I can’t possibly be that old. I can’t possibly be a parent, not a student.
“Mommy, will Cosette come too?” See? I told you they had gotten closer over the summer.
“Yes, she will, when she is five. Then you can show her around.”
“I will. I will hold her hand and tell her it is OK and make sure she doesn’t get scared.”
“Good, Juliette. You are such a good big sister.”
“Yes I am.”
So we arrive at the daycare. The girls take a long time getting out of the car, walking to the door, walking in the door. Juliette stoops to pick up a Kids directory magazine, and even starts perusing the pages. Ahh, the things that become suddenly very interesting when you are trying to avoid an unpleasant task.
First stop, Cosette’s toddler classroom. In we go, where I unload the stacks of clean clothes and clean underwear. I ask Dagmar for all the left over pull-ups, so that I can bring them home and use them at night time. She is skeptical and asks if Cosette really is OK on the potty, even with BM’s? I am triumphant when I proclaim “Oh, yes, absolutely”, and I really do mean it. Cosette clings to me for a minute, and then reaches her arms to Dagmar, who takes her briefly, before Cosette indicates that she wants to go play with her friends. I leave. One down, and it was much easier then expected!
Next, to Juliette’s preschool classroom. I need to ask her teacher when we are going to transition her into pre-K. The nice thing about this daycare is that they have a transition room for all those four year old’s who don’t turn five in time to make it to kindergarten. The plan had been to transition Juliette in over the summer, but she hasn’t been in daycare for the summer so… we walk into her classroom, unload her clothes and blankie into her cubby, and then start to mingle. Dawn, her teacher comes over. “Is Juliette going to pre-K today?” she asks me.
“That is what I wanted to ask you.”
“I can bring her if you want, or you can do it yourself.” is the reply.
“Do you mean she is going to pre-K today? I should just bring her there right now?”
“Unless you want me to do it.”
I am still a little confused. Usually, transition into a new classroom takes several weeks. “Does she have a cubby there? Am I supposed to bring all her stuff and just drop her off there from now on?”
“Yes.” is the non-informative reply. I turn to Juliette, who has happily sat down to play play-dough.
“OK, Juliette, let’s go to pre-K.” To which she replies, “NO!” She is sitting tightly in her chair, looking resolute, frantically rolling her play-dough into little balls. Frankly, I don’t blame her. I know I am the adult here, but I feel a little bit lost. I myself am feeling that this is all happening a little fast. I’ve known for three months that she had to go to pre-K; I just didn’t know it was going to be, well, today. Dawn once again volunteers to bring her, but I demur. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t take her myself?
Eventually I convince Juliette to get up and come with me. We wander through the next pre-school room and into pre-K. The teacher greets us warmly “Good morning Juliette!” We find her a cubby, and then I look around. It’s got a different air about it; the cubbies are bigger, the children are older, and the artwork on the walls is more advanced, and surrounded by shaky examples of writing. Juliette drags me over to the fish tank which is currently occupied by a lone frog, and then she pulls me over to the art table where the other teacher is mixing up… a fresh batch of play-dough. Surrounded by all of Juliette’s old pre-school friends. They all shout out hello and several come over to Juliette to drag her off into different corners of the classroom. She tugs free of my hand, turns to me and… pushes me out the door. She literally pushes me out the door! She didn't even kiss me good-bye!
Unwanted, I leave, secure in the knowledge that my daughter, at least, is adapting quite nicely to the situation. I really have nothing to worry about. But as I drive away, it hits me. I didn’t tell Cosette that Juliette was going into pre-K. Their classrooms used to be divided by a window. What will Cosette think when she looks for Juliette and doesn’t see her? Will she be upset? Will the teachers understand and explain that Juliette is in pre-K? Will they let Cosette visit Juliette?
Ahh, motherhood. One thing that remains constant… there is always something to worry about.
