Happy Fall to All

As we start the second full week of virtual public school, I am feeling for all of the parents out there, whatever your situation might be. I am especially sympathetic to parents of new Kindergarteners. This must be such a strange challenge for you as your student starts their school journey in a way that few of us imagined.

As I look back to our first experience with a child entering public school, one year ago, I guess that I can say that even though some things were as we expected... it was also fraught with its own ups and downs.

I call this story, The Nicklaus Family’s First Week…. Of Kindergarten

Throughout the summer of 2019, before sending our first child to public school Kindergarten in the busy and quickly growing city of Seattle, I became aware that I have General Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. Just two days before that first day, (of Kindergarten), I went through 48 hours of continuous panic attacks, not due to the upcoming start of Kindergarten, (well not entirely), probably more a result of decades of habitual worry and anxiety and years of interrupted sleep from having two young kids, including a three year old who was still yet to be sleeping-through-the-night at that time, and many other things, perhaps a genetic predisposition certainly, but anyway, that’s a different story. Either way, it probably wasn’t the most convenient time for an onset of mental illness, but it did make our milestone just that much more interesting.

The morning of that first day of the big K, I was feeling ok, even with my nerves in their fragile state. My husband’s parents and my parents had swooped in to our rescue. Our three year old, F, went to spend the night at my in-law's house. All was good. 

My husband, C, and I both went to drop our new Kindergartener, O, off. We were very proud and may have shed a tear or two just to see our first baby already going to school. We couldn’t wait to pick him up at the end of his day. 

“He’s going to be so excited to see us!”, I told C, remembering the adorable pick ups from preschool the year before.

We arrived in the busy courtyard at 2:25, and then learned that the Kindergarten classes are released at 2:20. Kids and parents and chaos was everywhere and we were scanning the crowd for our son or his teacher. “How did we miss that info? Where is O?” 

Finally, “He’s over here!” a friend helped us. 

“Oh phew! There is our boy!” We dashed over to him with great anticipation. Before we could ask him how his first day went, he was looking at both of us with the expression of an angry and spooked cat. He ran away from us and down a hallway. When we took a step near him, he ran further away. 

“Oh no! Something bad must have happened,” I said to C. 

“We should never have left him here,” C said, “We blew it.” C went all the way around the courtyard and to the other end of the hallway so that we could sort of trap O between us. Slowly, we took small steps toward him. He continued to act like a frightened animal. 

Finally I got close enough and wrapped my arms around him. “O, honey, I’m so sorry. Are you OK? What happened? I love you so much!”, I was almost in tears. I heard him grumble something. 

“What did you say?” he said it again,

“I just want to play more.”

Oh my God, he’s OK! C and I were so relieved. He did have a good day. He liked Mr. W’s class. He just wasn’t quite ready for his first day of Kindergarten to end.

Whew.

Day two, we got up in time, despite the pouring rain, to get our little guy to the bus stop, which had been the plan for day one, but we didn’t quite make it in time. He climbed the steps up into that big yellow bus wearing his little yellow raincoat, and off he went.

I was there waiting for him in plenty of time before 2:20 that day, and when I saw him at last, his first words to me were, “Mom, that was the first day I took the bus…and it was also the last day.” 

Oh no!! I realized my blunder. I just sent a five year old who has mostly only ridden in cars in a carseat with a five point harness buckle to ride a bus alone with no seat belts, much less car seats. My poor kid is balance and heights sensitive. As they went up and over the hill, it must have felt like a rollercoaster out of control and I had not thought to give him one word of preparation. 

The third day, I drove him to school, no problem. Then I was there again, dutifully early for pick-up. Chaos in the courtyard. Kids everywhere. Finally I spotted Mr. W and O’s class. I looked for O. “Where’s Orson?” I asked Mr. W. 

“He was just here.” he responded unhelpfully. 

ERRRR where is my son! I thought and with some panic and scanned the throng. “Go around the loop” Mr. W said which I did, I ran around the loop. Still, I didn’t see him. I went to the office, which was a crowded mess. I ran out and kept fearfully looking for my child. The gym teacher offered to help, and I heard “O Nicklaus” announced over the PA. Finally I spotted his ponytail bobbing behind a door and a garbage can. 

Whew. Again. 

Thursday, the fourth day, was also F’s first day of preschool. C and I dropped them both off. I had my first day with both kids in school. It went well. I jogged, I meditated. I picked F up at 12:30. We had lunch and I settled in to read him stories and got him ready to take a nap.

I was quite sleep deprived because, at that point, I was waking up nightly, every hour or so with panic attacks. The medication I had just started had not begun to improve my sleep yet. I looked at my clock and read F his last story and sang him a song. The next thing I knew, my eyes were opening and my clock read 2:38!

Oh no!! I fell asleep! I sprang up, (in a panic, of course). 

“C, C!!! I fell asleep!!” 

He came tearing upstairs. “Shit! Shit! Call the school!!” He dove into our car and tore out of our driveway like a bat out of hell. I called our school, and they told me that yes, O was in the office. C said that when he arrived, O was nonplussed, playing with toys and the other forgotten kids in the office. We set alarms on both of our phones to prevent this mishap in the future and C is still texting me everyday at alarm time to make sure I’m on my way.

Friday, the last day of our first week. We had almost made it. Just one more day. Drop off was fine again, taking into account the struggle to get up, eat breakfast, make lunch and get out the door without forgetting anything. Pick up, I was for sure there long before 2:20. Mr. W and his class came around the corner, and once again, I didn’t see O.

“He’s in the office,” said Mr. W. “He, um, well, he pooped his pants, that’s what happened.” 

“Oh.” I said, and made my way to the office. The nurse was going in and out of a small room and I let the administrator know who I was looking for. After a few minutes, the nurse and O came out. 

“It was everywhere,” she said quietly to me, “he’s going to need a bath.” I took the paper bag of my son’s soiled clothes and O’s hand. 

“Thank you.” I said to the nurse. “Thank you very much.”

Soooo, Kindergarten wasn't exactly easy, at least for us, in the typical setting. O ended up having an ok year, with a very nice teacher, and he did well a lot of the time, but as we start virtual first grade, I am counting it as a blessing at least in part. (he has cried of boredom in ZOOM meetings at least half of the days, but recess in his bunk bed and hikes whenever we get a chance this year will probably be very nice.)