Preschool was difficult enough. But, at least it was owned by my best friend. And, I already knew a lot of the staff before our little two-year-old son entered the gates.
For the first two weeks, I stayed at school (my husband was with me the first week) and watched. For two and a half hours, twice a week, I hid behind some wire fencing about fifteen feet away and watched. And cried. And watched. I was getting used to our routine when my dear friend who owns the school came up to me and said, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Turns out it was a therapist.
And so it went…My son has zero separation. Other kids cried for their parents, why didn’t mine? What did I do wrong? And why can’t I leave him for two and a half hours? By week three, I was a pro. Out of therapy, I was now happily watching from my car. By month’s end, I went to work after dropping him off, always early for pickup.
Three years later, he’s going to kindergarten. WTF! Where had the time gone? We met with the school staff, the parents in our class, and even formed a playgroup in the summer to ease us into the process. I still wasn’t ready. Our daughter had only recently been born and even though I was only half awake, I knew I wasn’t ready.
The school has a policy, where you must carpool or take a bus into school due to neighborhood traffic restrictions. I was worried about a big bus for a little guy. And, neither of these options allowed me to take my son every day and see him off. Luckily, there was a “local shuttle!” This solved our problems two-fold. Our little grown-up yearned to ride a bus and I needed the formality of driving him to school. The shuttle stop is only .4 miles from the school and there are no main roads, only side streets to travel to and fro. This would work.
Now, for the first week we were allowed to drive into school to ease the children (read: helicopter parents) into going to a new school. We took full advantage of this. I took him every one of those days! By the last two days of the week it was a bit awkward as we, my husband and I, were the only ones at circle time. We snuck out each morning and relented the passing of time.
Another new thing for us full-time-kindergarten-parents is the weekly minimum day. Every Wednesday, the school gets out an hour earlier. This sounded wonderful both to me and my son. The first full week on the shuttle began the day after Labor Day, a Tuesday. I drove him. Kissed him goodbye. Took 47 photos of him getting on the bus. Picked him up after school at the shuttle stop. And took 62 photos of him getting off the bus.
The next day, same morning routine. At about 1 PM, I was planning my daughters feeding schedule and planned that she would eat at 2 PM and we would head over to get our little kindergartener at 2:30 PM. At 2:10, I received a text from a Mom, letting me know that Kaye, the bus driver, would be taking my son back to school. I was confused for a second until I realized…MINIMUM DAY!!! I grabbed my keys and asked my (once a week) housekeeper to finish feeding my daughter as I needed to get my son who was left stranded and alone and crying and irreparably damaged AT THE SHUTTLE STOP!
I got in the car, and a moment later the principal called to tell me she did, indeed, have my son in her office – not to worry. Holding back the tears, I said I was on my way already and I was profusely sorry. On the drive, I went over in my head how horrible this was for my son and what a horrible parent I was. I called my friend’s daughter who also attend the school (9th grade) and begged her to the school office and let my boy know I was on my way and everything was alright! She generously complied and texted me he was fine.
As I waited in the excruciatingly long carpool line to get into school, I thought about my boy and how awful I was as a parent. Tears began to flow. I passed the Head of School on the way in and just murmured, “I am the worst parent ever,” as I drove by him. I pictured leaving my car, still running, in long line of eager cars and racing to the office to my terrified son.
I was finally through the gate and parked my car. I ran to the office, passing a few other kindergarten parents along the way, only to see my son sitting calmly in the office with the principal. The office had approximately thirty other damaged-left-behind-kids inside.
My son ran over to me…arms outstretched… and wrapped them around me. The principal smiled, said how lovely my boy was and patted my shoulder. He handed me a rock that said “love,” told me he loved me and not to forget that. Then, he said matter-of-factly that I had the time wrong today – could we have frozen yogurt? He could’ve asked to go to Disneyland at this point and I would’ve buckled.
On the way to yogurt he told me about all the other kids who went back on the bus and how much he loved sour gummies. When I let him get a few extra he said, “Daddy, you’re the best!” I realized that I wasn’t such an awful parent, not because he said so, but because for a a few minutes that day I had thought I was. No “good” parent actually thinks they’re truly good. All parents make mistakes. And all parents forget things, sometimes to their own kid. Let’s hope the second week of school is easier.