“Mom, c’mon!” They call. They have two years and one foot between them, but their stance, their expression, their tone – all deem them sisters.
They turn on their flip-flopped heels, leading the way.
Their long, been growing out forever-and-ever, hair grazes their backs. Almond alongside caramel glittering beneath neon lights.
We pass row upon row of neatly aligned red carts as they head towards soon-to-be sharpened pencils and tightly wound spiral notebooks and blue bins filled with glue sticks and erasers and the smell of crayons.
They’re in a hurry for their next steps, while I drag my feet there.
I’m forever led, sometimes more willingly than others, by the marks of the school year.
As a student, as a teacher, as a mother of school children, June and August have always meant beginnings woven with endings.
About a decade ago I stood in my friend’s pool by moonlight on the last day of school.
Our fingertips -her’s etched by motherhood, mine painted with not yets- lazily grazed the water as the grill cooled and our husbands’ low rumbles barely reached our ears and her children’s “getting ready for bed” voices threaded through open windows.
“Summer’s almost over.” She sighed.
“It’s the last day of school!” I laughed back.
“You’ll see.” She smiled, wisely not saying what I needed to learn for myself.
Days get shorter and faster and busier when they overflow with schedules and outings and laughter and snuggles.
I get this now, with every fiber of my being, I do.
And as summer’s last details get buttoned up – another late night on the swing-set to end one week followed by another new bottle of sunscreen to start the next – my mothering heart is looking towards all of our nexts.
For my very own reasons, slipped inside my very own heart, I’m worried about one of my girls this year.
Her version of next feels teetering and I want to grab hold of it and stabilize it for her. Make the unknown friendlier, easier, smoother.
“Are you going to request a change?” One friend asked, ringlets framing her face within summer’s hot wind, responding to my worries, feeding my want, my need, to do something.
“The point’s moot, right?” Another advised, her muscular legs flexed and sparkling inside the pool, soothing my guilt over what feels like can’t be done, or undone.
“Maybe it’ll be good?” A third says, her voice sweetening the bitter that I’m holding onto so very tightly, that can really and truly only be named fear. And maybe lack of control?
I take all of these mothering words in. Each gem passed from one knowing heart to another. But here I am a decade later, still needing to learn for myself.
So I do the only things I can as my girl gets bigger and steps out further to where my tight grasp can’t quite reach or flex or fix like I want it to.
I love her big, hold her close, build her up, and let her know that she is so, so very loved.
And I HeartHope that when she’s thrown off balance, she’ll have these as a soft landing, a brace, and a push.
And I, will follow her lead, willingly. (Maybe. I’m trying.)
Word of mouth is the absolute best thing that can happen for anything, really. Please help me get the word out about:
- Buy a book, fight cancer. Find out about Write for the Fight here.
- Inspire creativity in someone (young!) that you love. Find out about Pens and Paint here.
- Slow down and capture a moment. Memories Captured with Alison of Writing, Wishing is August 13-17. Find out more here.
She’ll be alright, she has you, Silly!
m.
You’ll be her biggest cheerleader and support. She’ll be a-ok!
You are her soft landing place, and nothing can change that
Hugs to you on this next step forward.
Knowing that she is so loved is one of the biggest most important thing you can give your daughter. You are so right in that!
Don’t worry…. she’ll doing just fine and knowing that she is loved and that you’re always there for her will make the days better for her.
When I was young I struggled with some major transitions and my greatest gift was my mother and her support.
I have a feeling she’ll be fine with you behind her. My lesson to myself in my limited experience with school so far is this: Things look very different in December than they do in August. Breathe.
Oh, Galit…I get this, and it IS scary! It’s hard to wait and see how everything plays out, but my motto is “everything happens for a reason”…it has too, right?
And, dang! I haven’t gotten school supplies yet, I’m dreading it a little.
xo
Oh, I know that fear…trusting the big, wide world of schools and teachers to hold our kids’ hearts with kid gloves. That out of control feeling of wanting to step in to protect them and knowing we can’t always be there to do it. I feel your turmoil, my friend.
She’ll be okay, as you will be too. xo
I understand you perfectly! I also worry about those things. Your daughter will be fine. She has you… and that’s all she’ll ever really need to make it out there
. Good luck- to you both!
Well, she has the best mom ever so no worries.
And that picture of the new school supplies is like writer/mommy porn. sorry to say porn on your gorgeous post. On your gorgeous blog for that matter.
Your words make me stop and slow down every time I visit because I want to savor each one. I know that it’s hard to not worry but I have a feeling that she’ll be OK given that she has such an amazing mom and supporter in her corner. BTW – is it really back to school time already??
Oh my gosh, I love this post. So perfect describing summer and how fast it truly goes. As a teacher, I too, get the whole idea of June & August signaling beginnings & ends and mark my year by it as well. The moment August 1st rolls around now, I always get a little twinge, knowing that it’s all about to start up again very soon.
These 3 months always seem to go faster than the rest.
Your daughter will be just fine because you will always be behind, next to, and in front of her.
Bittersweet isn’t it? We want them to grow, learn, explore, but not too much.
Julia started in the pre-K (the big girl classroom) this past Monday, and I was’nt ready. I knew it was coming, but I thought I had another week…
I think you’re daughter will be fine. She has a mother that is aware and loving, and there for her.
Ouch.
Hit a soft spot for me, as I watch my oldest son prepare for middle school.
Middle School.
I feel much like you, and want to hold on and let go and be joyous and fall down crying and scared all at once.
Thanks for sharing!
I have subscribed here ( since the July Captured Memories Linkup!) and I love your words and the way you string emotion together so seamlessly.
You are such an amazing Mommy, that no matter where else life takes her, she will always have your love and support to carry her through. You can do this; both of you.
Our “nexts” start tomorrow (!!!) and next week when G goes to Kindergarten. I can hardly believe I’m going to have 2 in school.
Love your words, as always, my friend. xoxo
Those beginnings and endings woven together … so bittersweet. Yes, yes. I’m deep in that morass of feeling right now, as though I can sense time turning under my very feet. xox
My sweet friend, you have this way of touching my soul with your words…and bringing the tears to my eyes.
This particular summer seemed over before if even began, and I understand this SO much.
xoxo
You are a phenomenal woman and mother, Galit, so she’s going to be GREAT. I know it. I have similar concerns/worries about my Izzy, but…I try to just be there for her and give her extra TLC. And trust in her teacher to know….things.
xoxoxo
Oh my friend, so so hard. These worries are so tough, but with you to come home to, she’ll come out on top. Many hugs.
I love everything about this, Galit. I have always marked beginnings and endings (come read the post I publish on Friday) and I too, have a kid I worry about. Will the teacher be right? Will she be challenged? Will there be problems?
Your kids are of similar age to mine, if I recall, and one thing I know I’ve learned in the few short years I’ve been at this elementary school thing is that sometimes the teacher may not be who we wanted or felt was right, but it’s sort of meant to be. Sometimes not because the kid will have the best year, but because we are meant to learn something from the experience. First grade for my son was full of…not good stuff. But it taught me something – that in the end, I am responsible for my kid’s education. That I’m their best advocate.
I have been the one wanting to switch teachers. I have been the one to say, let it ride. It is never easy. I wish only strength and wisdom for you as your girls embark on this new chapter. xoxoxo
Crying. You said this, THIS PARENTING of a school aged child, 100% exactly as it is. Wanting to hold them close, even as you let them take themselves out farther and farther away from you. And some of the steps they take are too fast for us parents. Some steps are too fast for them. But I truly believe and hope that when they have a safe place to land, as you so eloquently put it, they will turn out ok.
I’ve missed you so much this summer! I’m so sad ours is coming to an end, but I’m happy I’m going to get re-acquainted with you, friend!
yes, yes, and yes, to what Missy said.
I think the 3 of us could have a nice happy hour someday.
Oh honey. I feel this pain. Have felt it. And continue to still.
As a teacher and a mother it is so very hard.
As a mom, I am not the type to call and request a switch. Instead, I lie awake at night creating worry, nurturing it in my heart. In the light of day the fears aren’t so great and my kids…oh my kids are so brave.
They have no idea how much I worry about them. They go about their days being strong and learning and succeeding and failing. Every year has been a series of these things. (Some more positive than others, to be sure.) But as Gigi said, each situation helped them grow. Helped me grow. Helped me trust them and trust MYSELF to make good choices…to handle things that are hard.
As a teacher, I watched students connect to teachers others couldn’t stand; heard certain teachers maligned based only on gossip and not reality. So. I try always to remember that when approaching a new school year. I refuse to make a judgment about a teacher or classroom based on rumor or hearsay.
Perhaps the rumors are wrong; perhaps this teacher will connect to my kid in a way another wouldn’t. Or. Maybe the challenge will make him stronger, teacher her to stand up for herself, be an advocate.
Then, when/if I do see a problem, I deal directly with the teacher. I think there is nothing more horrible for a professional of any type to have someone go directly over their heads to complain without being given a chance to address a concern first themselves.
As a teacher, I want to be given a chance. So as a mother I offer one.
And then O take the next step and the next as needed. One day at a time.
Fingers crossed for you and you sweet girl.
Breath held. Heart hopeful.
Always.
Julie, you are so right about some teachers being wrongfully maligned, and some teachers being wrongfully revered! When my oldest entered her new school 2 years ago, everyone danced around NOT telling me what I figured out easily – no one liked the teacher she had. But HER experience with that teacher? Completely positive and a huge growing year for her. I sent her an email in the spring of that year thanking her for what a tremendously good year she’d give “us” for our first year at the school and she was so thankful for the email. But it was all true! She GOT my kid and helped her grow exponentially.
I am thankful to her and that experience because it taught me not to listen to the schoolyard gossip.
*given* –
#hatetypos
Totally agree on the bad reputation some teachers get. It’s all about the individual kid with the individual teacher. My son got the teacher I really wanted him to have for kinder. When my friends found out who he had, they were all, “I’m so sorry, will you request a switch?” She had a bad rap for being cold and aloof and strict. I knew in my heart she wasn’t, and she proved every day to not only be kind and loving, but one of the two best teachers he’s had so far – and my daughter had her for kinder too. She was AMAZING.
There’s definitely some learning that goes on when you have rough years with teachers you don’t care for, too. THIS is the stuff parenting is made of to me: not the diaper changes and sleep deprived nights over teething, but exactly what Julie describes: not requesting a switch and laying awake worrying about school stuff…all the while our kids are being brave and growing.
Well said, Julie.
I would never request a change from a teacher with whom I personally hadn’t had any issues. Often, the most maligned are the toughest, and that can translate into ‘best’. However. Baby, once I KNOW an issue? Once I KNOW how a teacher interacts with my family? Oh hells to the yes, I would be asking for a change.
“I love her big, hold her close, build her up, and let her know that she is so, so very loved.” <— THIS! These words live in my heart every single day and here you have written them so simply and beautifully and perfectly.
So in awe of your words and your talent!
Galit,
This post makes my heart ache in that way that only ignorance of what you’re going through can — knowing that I too will encounter these issues, but not being able to fully grasp it yet. On some fronts I’m DYING for school to start back up, even though our “school” is just twice a week mother’s day out. On other fronts, I’m screaming at myself that this coming school year will be their LAST before kindergarten and I need to soak up this age, this fun (sometimes), these kids. Because even though I deem these the terribly hard years, I know that the years I spend having a little less control over their every waking moment will be even harder.
Beautiful post.
Gorgeous post, Galit.
I know there isn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for your children. You are just such a wonderful momma in that way. But I think your daughter will be perfectly fine, too (as someone else said above: she has YOU!). And in addition to that, she’ll learn her way. In the same way you did to get to where you are, she’ll find her footing, too. I have no doubt about it. Because Galit? You have raised some extraordinary children.
XOXO
Did I mention how much I’ve missed your writing? Oh, well, one more time for good measure never hurts, right?