Blast Off!

After a week and a half, I'm ready to declare Sarah's launch into kindergarten a success.  I still want to knock wood, just to be safe, since it's gone so smoothly.  Not a single tear (from her, that is) and nary a misgiving.  My little girl is growing up.

 

Of course, you'd think I was launching her into space, the way we prepared.  We started reading books about kindergarten in July.  The bedtime stories I told her painted a picture of the fun she'd have.  We had play dates on the school playground with her future classmates throughout August.  We practiced walking to the end of the driveway, kissing goodbye, and climbing on the (pretend) bus.  We drove the bus route, pointing out all the stops and familiar sights.  I made her a locket with a photo of the three of us to wear.

 

During the week before school started, Sarah kept saying that she was excited but a little scared.  I assured her that the other kids were a little scared, too, and that they'd all get used to it and have a good time. 

 

That Friday, the school had an open house so the kids could visit the classroom and meet the teacher again.  Sarah was nervous but did well.  I asked the teacher if she would be meeting the bus on the first morning, and she said, "No, the kids just head out to the playground."  This sent my brain spinning, as I envisioned my timid little girl standing in the middle of the playground with no one to connect with.  Don suggested I go and spy the first day, and if she looked as though she needed help, swoop in.  It sounded a little h*licopter-mom-ish, but I liked that it gave her the chance to handle things on her own first, so I made it a plan.

 

Don left for his annual fishing trip the next day, so Sarah and I were on our own for the first week of school.  Monday night (L*bor Day), I had the wild (for me) idea of having ice cream for dinner as a way to mark the end of summer and beginning of school.  When I told Sarah, she was incredulous but intrigued.  We headed to the General Store and ate hot fudge sundaes on the porch.  Half-way through, she said seriously, "Mom, I think when we get home, we'd better drink some milk, because we don't want to be not healthy."  That's my girl.

 

To ease the transition (and, we found out, allow the teacher to attend a wedding), the school had the kindergarteners attend for just an hour-and-a-half the first day (Sept. 3).  The parents brought them to class, stayed while the principal read a story (The K*ssing Hand), then left to enjoy brunch provided by the PTO on the front lawn.  When I gave Sarah a kiss goodbye, she responded with a grim smile but didn't object.

About 45 minutes later, the kids trooped out of the building.  Sarah was grinning proudly.  We all boarded a school bus and took a ride around town, which she loved.  Then, the principal gave each child a book about kindergarten and a little rubber bracelet. 

We headed to my mom's for lunch, and Sarah couldn't wait to tell Grammy all about school.  She chattered on about it all afternoon, then, at dinner, announced, "I'm not going back."  Shades of last year.  She didn't make a big fuss, though, and went to bed fine. 

 

 

 

The next morning, she slept late, and I had to wake her.  She told me to go away, and I went downstairs preparing myself for a rough morning.  A few minutes later, though, she appeared, relatively cheery.  She said she wasn't going to school, but I kept her moving, and she didn't argue. 

 

She was happy while waiting for the bus.  When it pulled up, she looked worried, but she gave me a hug and kiss and climbed aboard.  The driver introduced herself, and Sarah sat in the first seat.  As the bus pulled away, I blew her a kiss, and she blew one back. 

 

I walked in the house and cried.  Then, I got Cadi the Lab's leash, and we set off for school.  Fortunately for a spying parent, the schoolyard is nearly surrounded by high shrubs.  On the far end, though, they're low enough to just peer over without being seen.  I stationed us there and waited for the kids to arrive, while Cadi wondered what happened to her walk.

 

Soon, the buses pulled in, and kids streamed around the corner of the building, out onto the playground.  I strained to spot Sarah, expecting to see a lone, tentative figure.  In a few minutes, however, she appeared, holding hands with a slightly older girl I'd never seen before.  The girl showed her where to leave her backpack, then they got on adjacent swings, and the girl chatted away, while Sarah smiled. 

 

When the bell rang, the girl (who I now considered an angel) took Sarah by the hand and led her up to get in line.  I watched as she marched into the building (second in line), a full-fledged kindergartener.  (I learned later that the girl was a second-grader who is friends with a girl in Sarah's Sunday School class and agreed to watch out for Sarah on the first day -- so sweet!)

 

It was a very long day for me, home with just Cadi the Lab and Sophie the Cat for company.  I ran an errand in the afternoon, and as I drove through town, I spotted a line of little people following a man down the sidewalk.  I picked out Sarah, right in the middle, marching along happily, and my heart leapt.

Finally, the bus pulled up in front of the house, and a happy, tired, HUNGRY five-year-old got off.  She parked herself at the kitchen counter, pulled out her lunch box, and proceeded to finish off the snacks and lunch I'd packed. 

She wasn't forthcoming with details of her day, but over the next few hours, I learned that the class had rested after lunch, and the teacher played music just like hers.  She got to turn out the lights, then tap each kid on the shoulder with a magic wand when it was time to get up.  They learned a new song ("When someone's a-talkin', my lips are a-lockin'.") and played "R*d Light, Gr**n Light" and "S*mon Says" during gym class at the Grange Hall (where Don and I had our wedding reception 11 years ago).

We're now 10 days into the school year, and things are going swimmingly.  Sarah loves school.  She says her favorite parts are recess, lunch, and gym, but she's also showing a greater interest in learning to read.  Each Saturday, she's asked me to take her to the playground so that she can show me the new things she can do.  The little girl who needed me to hold her when she climbed a few feet off the ground now does flips and hangs upside-down on the bars and slides down the fire pole all on her own.  Her confidence has grown tremendously.

As for me, my stomach still flips as the bus pulls away in the morning, but I'm enjoying my less-structured days.  I'm eager to start volunteering in her class so I can see what she's like with her friends.  And I'm so very relieved and proud that she's made this big transition easily.  She's an amazing girl.