Starting School - the no fluff version
Looking back at my daughters first year in school, it's been an incredibly emotional year and never I have been so tested as a parent or person.
For all who know me, I've done many jobs, I've been a youth worker, working with teenage boys who used to threaten to attack me on the way home after a youth work sessions, disabled adults who used to get their genitals out in sessions, I've been a mountain guide, taking groups hiking through the mountains in the Dolomites, I've worked on big digital website project worth millions, working with 100 team members internationally, but nothing, absolutely nothing comes close to parenting my little girl through her first year at school.
No-one really warns you about how hard it is. It seems comparable to child birth really. Everyone has a different experience but everyone is very guarded when it comes to being honest about how it REALLY is, or how it’s going to be.
I just wished someone had turned round to me and said “it’s gonna hurt so bad, that you will feel insane and maybe want to kill yourself in that moment.” That's how I felt in labour and that's how I felt at some points through last year. But not one person warned me honestly about how it was going to be. I wished they'd had, because I could have gone in with a bit more of a fighting spirit.
So I guess this post, is just an honest encounter about our first year in school, mainly for me to brain dump but also to offer a little bit of straight forward experience, with no fluff, about what it can be like, because a child starting school is an adjustment for all the family, not just the person attending.
The lead up to school is very exciting/nerve racking. It’s a highly emotional time. You’re so thrilled for them to be starting out on their new adventure and perhaps a little sad about them leaving/happy that you may have a piece of yourself back. I was distraught for two months in the build up! I would burst out into tears randomly, just looking at them doing something insignificant and turning it into a profound ‘look at her, she’s so grown up, where has the time gone” moment. It was sort of like watching an egg timer, and watching the sand speed away as it gets closer to the end. A child starting school is like that. The days are long but the years are short! It creeps up on you!
That feeling of dropping them off on their first day was so overwhelming, I fretted about it for weeks, bursting out into tears about the passage of time and the sadness that I wouldn't be apart of her learnings and joyous moments anymore, not able to watch her grow and develop. I was honestly gutted.
I tried to imagine how I would feel and became so emotional every time. I was in a way, trying to prepare myself so when the time came I wouldn’t be hysterical. And to be honest, it was great to get all the crying out the way, so that on the big day, I literally had run out of tears.
All that was left was this immense sense of pride and joy watching my little summer born, smaller than everyone else, run into the playground unscathed and bold. She owned that playground and she practically ran inside. I was so happy she had been brave and excited. There was no room for tears, it was one of my all time favourite moments of parenting. Bursting with pride at my incredible little big person.
I was excited for her, and I guess it was an awakening for me as a mother, to realise that true love for someone is selfless. That letting them go, if they’re happy, means you are too. It was the selfless love of that day, that came over me and held me together. I was glad to have made it over that hurdle and I thought that was the hard part over.
Those first couple of weeks are a little unusual in a way, as the integration and phasing in sessions, allow everyone to adjust slowly, so your kids aren’t that tired initially. It was when they started full time, that I began to see cracks in my resilient little girl.
She would fall out of school, literally pulled apart, hair all over the show, dirt, food, paint and god knows what all down their little shirt. Tie all cock-eyed and cardigans being dragged along the floor, with scuffed knees. She would stumble out of the pick up area with her oversized book bag, coat and what looked like a whole schools recycling bin (sorry I mean amazing inventions).
Now I am by no means tidy or clean, I’m an artist who cares more about other things, so I wasn’t bothered about what she looked like, but it is a clear sign of the day she had had. She looked like she’d gone to Glastonbury dressed as Britney Spears for a week.
She not only looked a mess, she certainly was not well turned out when it came to manners either. I’d say “hi love, did you have a nice day?” to be met with “I don’t want to talk, where’s my snack!”
And this was it for the next year. That! “I don’t want to talk!” To be honest I was lucky if I got that, most days she would just scream at me and cry. I was having to bring her home in the pram, because she was just so tired and beastly.
When we got home, it just exploded. My daughter not being the type to go meek when tired, she would get really hyper and it was horrendous. I couldn’t even sit near her. She would be swinging off banisters, running everywhere, hanging off my legs crying and screaming asking for constant snacks!!!! I was trying to cook tea whilst dealing with a child that looked like she was on speed.
And on top of that, I would have sibling arguments to contend with also. With one half of the team exhausted, the tolerance levels would be zero. So every toy that was played with, she wanted, if he slightly wanted anything she had, she couldn’t handle it. Food, my attention, toys, places, were all fought over.
Throughout this whole period, we were just desperately searching for answers, trying to put a label on her, maybe she has ADHD, maybe the deserts at her school are making her bonkers, is she just overly tired, is she just ill? All this reaching out for answers, was just getting far too much. I was beginning to feel like I was going insane, being a paranoid mother.
As the year went on we struggled with illnesses, arguments, breakdowns (a plenty). A clear sign something was wrong, we were all stressed.
The more she was difficult the more I was trying. I was trying my absolute hardest to be the best Mother I could be! But I was losing, because my child was miserable and constantly screaming and hysterical. I have never experienced anything like it.
Along side all the fallouts from school for her, I was also having to deal with the endless emails coming in from school reception, parents mail, PTA groups, class groups, Whats apps and Facebook groups. Little notes being put in bags, 'bring this in' for that and money in for then. Do homework for here and read this many books for then. Along with the added pressures of after school groups, and also the endless amount of school parties that you get invited to. And because your kid is very unlikely to have made close friends at that point, you feel compelled to go to every single one! That's like 30 parties, that's nearly 3 a month. You have to be on your guard, them starting school doesn’t mean you don’t have to do anything, it just means you have to do the same in a smaller window of time, with more intensity.
Then you have the uniform! My god, the bloody uniform. We would argue over every single item, and that was just at the stage where I’d finally convinced her to put the damn thing on!
"The socks feel funny, I don’t like how the shirt feels on my wrist, the collar is too high, the tie is too tight, the cardigan is too long, I don’t like how the skirt feels on my hips, the tights feel horrible and my knickers are up my bum!” And don’t even get me started on brushing hair! Id shave the whole thing off if I could.
I swear to God I have never been so close to a breakdown in my life. Now I don’t know if this was just my child, and whether she had a problem with sensory items. But it was tough forcing my child to wear this stuff she just didn’t want to put on.
The uniform is a mad one, as I like the idea that all the kids are the same and no-one is bullied for their clothes. I was bullied as a kid for having cheap Nike fake trainers, so I like the concept of a uniform. But for kids this young, I think its a step too far. And why kids wear white shirts is a mystery to me. The only time they remain white is the moment they’re removed from the packet!
The next pain point would be the work load brought home. We finally managed to get into a rhythm by the end with reading 3 books a week, but be warned, your child starting to read is the most magical and testing activity you’ll under take. I imagine similar to teaching your child how to drive in years to come.They need to start somewhere, but it is so painful, trying to 1. make a child sit still and concentrate and 2. listening to them spell out every single letter to sound the word out. Especially if they are tired, which they invariably are.
I feel incredibly mean admitting this, as its the one thing I really want my kids to be good at, as I didn’t want to start reading until I was 7. I think it has hindered me in some ways so I don’t want that for them. I love the fact she can read and its an incredible achievement, just be prepared that it needs a lot of patience from your side.
Like my labour, I just wish in hindsight that someone would have been honest about how bad it can be. Then you could go in prepared. Maybe offered some practical advice. Or maybe someone could have just said, “just let them watch TV when they get in after school, you’re not a bad mum for letting that happen”, or don’t feel pressured to send them to all the after school clubs, or don’t worry if they’re not reading as much as the next kids, or sod it, don’t worry if you’re late, or don’t worry if they go to school without their tie or their hair is all over the shop.
Give them downtime. They need it. Even though you’re only having them from 3pm - 7pm. That first hour could feel like 3 sets with Federer, launching serves of 150miles/hour at you. Batting away nags, screams, meltdown, trying to negotiate, prevention of meltdowns and just down right protection.
Also don’t be ashamed of asking for help. I practically cried on everyone that year, including the teachers, support staff and parents of the other kids.
The school was amazing and really tried to help us. We went in several times about the contrasting behaviour of our child. She was an angel at school and a devil at home. This was bitter sweet really, at least she was good there, but then why couldn’t she be good at home? It was infuriating, she obviously has it in her to be good, so why was she kicking out at us so much?
I guess the reason was, she was absolutely knackered. People do warn you that they get tired in that first term, but no-one can prepare you for that actually means in reality.
I hope this blog post as enlightened those who think, starting school may be a breeze. Its an exciting time for everyone, and a coming of age. There are so many wonderful and amazing things that happen, like chirstmas shows, parents evening, seeing them make friends and partake in events and discussions. Coming home and discussing things they’ve learnt and sharing the copious amounts of crafts.
Meeting new people and joining a community, has all been amazing. But it has been incredibly overwhelming. And I really feel like we all needed a break from it. But its that time of year where we send them back. I will miss watching my child laugh, learn, sing, dance and eat at some point in our day. I just have everything crossed that it is going to be a little easier this year, knowing what I know now.
I hope I haven’t scared anyone, it will be tough, but there are rays of sunshine too. Remember you need rain to make a rainbow. I wish all the new starters luck, the little and the big people. xxx