As she walked towards the school bus, the look on my daughter’s face turned from pure excitement to a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. The thing she had been anticipating for weeks was finally real. It was right in front of her. Undaunted, she climbed the stairs and found a seat, her parents trailing awkwardly behind trying to take pictures. As the bus pulled away, a wave of sadness swept over me. It was done. The next chapter of her life had begun.
Why is the first day of school so bittersweet for parents? On the surface, it appears to be nothing but positives: new friends, new responsibility, opportunities to learn, and on top of all that–it’s free! For me it’s a little different, though perhaps similar to other’s experiences. Though all the normal fears and anxieties went through my head, I couldn’t help but think back to when I was in school. While I wouldn’t consider myself a victim of anything, I was bullied quite badly when I was in elementary school. Nerd, geek, fag, loser, teachers pet; I was teased and excluded, often by those I considered my friends. There were a few physical encounters, but they mostly took the shape of playground fights that, even at my diminished size, I actually held my own.
The teasing stemmed from the fact that I was a smart kid who always got 100% on the tests, always answered the teacher’s questions correctly, and who left school once a week for extra learning. I was a smaller kid and I have (and still have) an emotional streak that I seem to have passed down to my daughter. As a young boy, I would often think and reflect on subjects that adults would marvel at. I was an explorer. My daughter is amazing. Her imagination, curiosity and emotion lead her to explore her world in a way all her own. She is very tuned in to people’s emotions, often easily able to tell when my wife and I are feeling down even if it has nothing to do with her. “Are you happy Daddy?” She has the light and the fire of a little girl ready to bring her own unique perspective to the world and make it her own. I’m afraid she will lose it. I’m terrified not that the school system or her teachers will rob her of that fire–I’m worried her peers will. Let’s face it, kids can be cruel, some let it just roll off their backs, but some, like my daughter and I, take it to heart. While boys are generally pretty primitive in their taunts and techniques, a shudder to think about what knd of cruelty girls can dish out.
The good news is that by all accounts my daughter is a joyful, well liked, exuberant little girl and she should be fine. The sadness surrounding sending her to school for the first time has nothing to do with being apart from her, she has gone to daycare all day since 15 months old, it has more to do with school specifically. Daycare is a pretty safe place, the ratio of caregivers to kids is high and toddlers don’t really have the capacity to be mean and capricious yet. However, given my personal experience, I can’t help but fear for her boisterous spirit and hope that it survives intact. Up until we send them to school, our kids are relatively sheltered from emotional or physical harm. We obsess over their wellbeing, we stress about whether or not they are developing at the right pace, and we sweat every small detail to ensure their happiness. Once school begins, so much is beyond our control.
When I went to school, I would come home every year with A+ across the board, raves from teachers, and an active extracurricular life. But it never told the whole story. I felt alone and ostracized, and at a certain point I decided that the me who enjoyed going to the library, reading science books, and dreaming about colonizing Mars wasn’t good enough. I changed to try to make the bullying stop. Sadly, it actually kinda did, but that’s another story.
I don’t want that for my daughter. Who we are as young kids is the most natural, organic expression of our true being because it has yet to be tainted by the world. That’s what terrifies me. I don’t want her to lose her inner spark the way I did. The little girl that makes up her own songs, dances for no reason, and asks so many amazing questions is exactly the young woman I want her to become. Of course the process isn’t so linear, changes are inevitable, but that core, that radiant soul that makes smiles contagious around her, must endure. That’s the source of my fear and sadness, not that she is growing up, not that she is becoming independent, and certainly not that she will develop a support system beyond my wife and me.
Thankfully, I can rely on the fact that she has a good heart, a strong independent streak, and a precocious spirit to help guide her through life in a way I never could.
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