The first day of school is here! But mum’s not ready yet

In a week’s time, my first-born will be starting school. «Ok cool, wow», you might be thinking. And you’re right in thinking that. After all, that is the fate of every child in Switzerland around the age of six.

And this is where the story could end. New chapter, new family challenge, done. The end.

Well, almost. But what’s one small step for humankind is one giant leap for us as a family. At least for me as a mother, as I’ve come to realise. Allow me to give you an idea of my current emotional state: for the baby I only just breastfed, changed and carried around in a sling, the seriousness of life begins now. How about a little bit more compassion for me? Hey, and could someone hit the pause button on time, please?

The closer, the more nervous

My husband finds my sentimentality amusing. Alright, alright. I must admit, I can’t quite take myself seriously either. My six-year-old daughter finds it funny and embarrassing in equal measure. If it were up to her, time would be sped up. She thought those last days at kindergarten were nothing but «boooooring». She even packed her purple schoolbag, which looks oversized on her at the moment, before the summer break. While she’s been anticipating D-Day for weeks, I’m getting increasingly nervous as the day approaches.

Me: Only one week to go before school starts. Are you excited?
Her: No.
Me: Are you sure? I am! But you’re looking forward to it?
Her: Sure.
Me: What are you looking forward to the most?
Her: (shrugs) I dunno.
Me: Come on! What are you looking forward to? A particular subject? The teachers? Your classmates? Or even just the breaks?
Her: I really don’t know. Mum, I don’t even know what school is like.

She’s so right. How can she be excited about something that’s totally unknown to her? Something she’s only ever heard about? I, on the other hand, am already imagining every possible scenario for her.

Lately, I’ve been catching myself reminiscing about my old school days. And am amazed to realise that I have no memory of the big first day at school at all. Sure, I have photos of me posing proudly in front of my parents’ house donning my red leather satchel. But that’s all. I recently dug this old specimen out of my parents’ attic to show my daughter. «That was your satchel?», she asked incredulously. Well, we didn’t have ergonomically optimised easy grow systems and fancy, replaceable glitter pads back then.

A thousand questions, but not from my child

I have fond memories of school, I usually enjoyed going. Mainly because of my friends and probably also because I didn’t struggle too much. Fast forward 30 years and I’m suddenly plagued by worry. How will my daughter fare in the new class? Will she find good friends like I did back then? What if she’s bullied? Will she get on with her teachers? Will they get on with her? Will she manage to keep up in class? What if she gets bad grades on a regular basis? None of these questions are on my daughter’s mind.

Me: You’ll soon have homework to do every day.
She: Yeah, I know. So?
Me: I didn’t always feel like it. Especially when I didn’t like the subject. But I still had to do it.
She: You liked writing and gym class, right?
Me: That’s right. I also enjoyed maths in the beginning. But not so much over time.
She: What’s maths?
Me: Calculation.
She: I think I’ll like calculation.
Me: Well, you already know how to a bit. Which other subjects will you like?
She: Gym class! And arts and crafts.
Me: We used to call it handiwork. I didn’t like it so much. I preferred woodwork.
She: Will we also have arts and crafts homework?
Me: Uhm, I don’t think so.

As a mum, I’m the most intimidated by the homework. With all our hobbies and jobs, our days are already packed as it is. No idea how we’re going to cram in homework as well. I currently find consolation in the fact that most parents feel the same way. Besides, I now know from experience that we as a family get used to changes quickly, even if they’re always scary at first. At least that gives me some peace of mind.

The curse of homework

Secretly, I’m secretly hoping my daughter will show some self-discipline. Hoping she’ll knuckle down and get her homework done right after school, so she can meet her friends outside with that weight off her shoulders. Hahahaha, I’m laughing at myself as I’m writing this. I can’t believe I still harbour that kind of naive hope after living with our child for six and a half years.

In reality, I’ll have to nag her into doing her homework on a daily basis because everything else will seem more important to her. And I can already hear myself saying: «You’re not leaving the house until you’ve finished your homework! End of.» This, in turn, will trigger a tantrum because she’ll be able to hear the neighbours’ kids playing just outside our door. The arguments are inevitable. But I’ll still try to push them as far away as possible for now. Instead, I’m working on a positive mindset for now.

Me: So cool you’ll get to walk to school with so many kids from the neighbourhood. I always loved the walk to school.
She: Huh? Why?
Me: Come rain or shine, we always walked together, no matter the weather. When we were older, we all cycled there. You experience a lot together that way.
She: But your way to school was much longer than mine, wasn’t it?
Me: Yes, that’s true. But you’ll still have a great time. Speaking of which, let’s walk to your school together one more time, okay?
She: But I already know how to get there, Mum.
Me: Yeah, but still.
She: No, I know the way.
Me: Alright then. But we still have to walk from the school to day-care.
She: If we must.

They grow up so fast, I think to myself. I sound exactly like my mother. As a kid, I used to roll my eyes at this. Today, I can relate. As a parent, having children means one thing above all: letting go and trusting them. The first time at nursery, the overnight stay at the grandparents, the first time at day-care. It’s a never-ending series of letting them go. Or does this finally stop once they’re handed a professional diploma?

So now for the first day of school. My fellow editor Martin and dad of children aged seven and nine, told me how he cried his eyes out in the corner of the classroom when his firstborn had his first day at school. «Tissues», I add to my imaginary to-do list. And discreetly wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. I’ll be ready for school in a week’s time. Promise.