Dear Forest, on your last day of Kindergarten,
On your first day of kindergarten, you walked onto the playground with confidence, eager to see your old preK friends and begin a new school year. When the bell rang, you rushed excitedly to your new classroom door and I watched as your new teacher gently corrected you that you should form a line and walk in one by one. Always sensitive to any correction, I watched your shoulders slump and your eyes go blank.
I recognized your internal shut down and silently willed you to shake it off, walk in, and start fresh. Instead I saw you stand just inside the door after Ms. Whitman instructed you to put your backpack in your new cubby and you stood there looking like a lost puppy as kindergartner after kindergartner streamed past you and easily followed the teacher’s first instructions of the year.
I spied through the window as she, over and over again, softly touched your shoulder and directed you to the cubbies, but still- you stood frozen. You finally figured out the cubbie protocol but then retreated into the corner and started viciously wiping the tears from your eyes. And outside your classroom window I wiped the tears from my eyes too. I watched from a distance as you hesitantly took your place at the back of the rug as the students gathered around your new teacher. There were books on the rug and, as always, I watched you visibly relax as your flipped through the pages, finding your safe place in the world of make believe.
But as you started your first moments of real school, I worried your mind would always be somewhere else. I always get emotional when I see you disappear into yourself, like a turtle hiding in it’s shell. At home you are vibrant and brilliant, the shiniest star I have ever known, and I flinch when I see your anxiety make you fold into yourself and shut down.
I returned home where Nana and Pops were waiting to hear how it went and I collapsed into a puddle of tears retelling your transformation from excited and confident to shy and confused. I was that overwhelmed and shy kindergartner once myself and I empathized deeply with your anxiety. I worried about you all day long. But I needn’t have. You exited the classroom giving Ms. Whitman a big hug (remember hugs?) and beaming ear to ear. "How was your first day?", I asked. "GREAT!", was your reply. And this script played itself out every single day after.
I said ‘You know, this morning you seemed a little nervous’ to which you replied ‘it’s normal to be nervous on your first day.’ My wise little boy. Oh how you loved Kindergarten. You rushed us out of the door every morning at 7 AM to give you ample time to play with friends on the playground. You and Lucina always rushed to the door at the first sound of the bell, both competitively wanting to be first into the classroom. I hardly ever even got a goodbye glance. You loved Kindergarten with all your heart and soul, lamenting to us that school holidays were unfair and throwing fits if we pulled you out of school an extra day for special trips (remember special trips?). This year didn’t end the way we wanted it to, and I grieved for your loss of such a special year with a ‘just right’ teacher and a classroom full of friends. But I’m not sad about the extra time I got at home with you.
I recognized your internal shut down and silently willed you to shake it off, walk in, and start fresh. Instead I saw you stand just inside the door after Ms. Whitman instructed you to put your backpack in your new cubby and you stood there looking like a lost puppy as kindergartner after kindergartner streamed past you and easily followed the teacher’s first instructions of the year.
I spied through the window as she, over and over again, softly touched your shoulder and directed you to the cubbies, but still- you stood frozen. You finally figured out the cubbie protocol but then retreated into the corner and started viciously wiping the tears from your eyes. And outside your classroom window I wiped the tears from my eyes too. I watched from a distance as you hesitantly took your place at the back of the rug as the students gathered around your new teacher. There were books on the rug and, as always, I watched you visibly relax as your flipped through the pages, finding your safe place in the world of make believe.
But as you started your first moments of real school, I worried your mind would always be somewhere else. I always get emotional when I see you disappear into yourself, like a turtle hiding in it’s shell. At home you are vibrant and brilliant, the shiniest star I have ever known, and I flinch when I see your anxiety make you fold into yourself and shut down.
I returned home where Nana and Pops were waiting to hear how it went and I collapsed into a puddle of tears retelling your transformation from excited and confident to shy and confused. I was that overwhelmed and shy kindergartner once myself and I empathized deeply with your anxiety. I worried about you all day long. But I needn’t have. You exited the classroom giving Ms. Whitman a big hug (remember hugs?) and beaming ear to ear. "How was your first day?", I asked. "GREAT!", was your reply. And this script played itself out every single day after.
I said ‘You know, this morning you seemed a little nervous’ to which you replied ‘it’s normal to be nervous on your first day.’ My wise little boy. Oh how you loved Kindergarten. You rushed us out of the door every morning at 7 AM to give you ample time to play with friends on the playground. You and Lucina always rushed to the door at the first sound of the bell, both competitively wanting to be first into the classroom. I hardly ever even got a goodbye glance. You loved Kindergarten with all your heart and soul, lamenting to us that school holidays were unfair and throwing fits if we pulled you out of school an extra day for special trips (remember special trips?). This year didn’t end the way we wanted it to, and I grieved for your loss of such a special year with a ‘just right’ teacher and a classroom full of friends. But I’m not sad about the extra time I got at home with you.
During Virtual school, I have really enjoyed starting our mornings with walks where we could chat about all your favorite subjects (Star Wars, LEGOs, various books, our future golden retriever whom you want to name ‘Owen’). I loved looking for our bird each morning and all of our surprise lizard sightings.
I have been surprised by how brave you’ve been with sharing during your zoom calls. You started the year so reserved, and while there is nothing at all wrong with being quiet and introspective, I am happy to see you sharing your thoughts more eagerly. I am also impressed with how hard you work on the things you care about and seeing you take such pride in your creative projects.
I think we will always remember our afternoons spent ‘napping’ (aka watching TV and movies) while Juliet took her 2nd nap, a reward for getting all of our work done without complaint each day.
I wonder how your interests will develop as you get deeper into subjects. Your love for reading, math, writing, science, PE, art, and music seem equal and you are excited to start learning Spanish next year (you already know ‘Lavar Los manos’…Oh Coronavirus! What a curveball.) I pray your love for learning only grows from here and that your curiosity and love for reading continues to bless you your whole life.
You have grown so much in your willingness to try new, challenging things and to make mistakes. You still have your bouts with perfectionism and competitiveness but you really seem to grasp the concept that the more you practice, the better you become and that there is absolutely no way to become good at something without first messing up plenty of times!
I can't wait to see your current friendships deepen and new friendships develop as you enter first grade. You've blossomed so much socially and you love your 'team' with all your heart, mind, and soul.
I can't wait to see your current friendships deepen and new friendships develop as you enter first grade. You've blossomed so much socially and you love your 'team' with all your heart, mind, and soul.
You are a very special boy with a fascinating mind. You have an energy level and a creativity that will serve you well in life. You are the bravest boy I know, with the makings of a true Gryffindor/Jedi/Dragon Trainer all in your courageous, wise, thoughtful, fun-loving, loyal and joyful spirit.
Love,
Mom
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