kindergarten blues
by lisa horak

August 8, 2003
My oldest child, Molly, started kindergarten today.

We have been preparing for this day for quite some time. In fact, to make the countdown more tangible, she and my husband made a paper chain with a link for each day remaining until school was to start. Each morning she excitedly ripped off one more construction paper circle. During this final week, the preparations went into high gear. On Sunday we purchased the final school supplies. On Monday I cut her long hair up to her shoulders. She instantly looked about three years older. On Tuesday we bought her a new dress for the first day of school. It is red with flowers on it and comes with a short-sleeved cardigan sweater. It is a Big Girl Dress. My baby is growing up, whether I’m ready or not.

To me this kindergarten milestone marks a major paradigm shift. Molly will go from being the eldest (bossing around her faithful companion, her little sister Isabel) to being the youngest. She will go from the comfort and security of home and preschool to the scary and intimidating world of elementary school. She will go from a state of sweet naïveté to a cafeteria of much older children discussing a myriad of topics that have nothing to do with Barbie dolls and Disney Princesses.

She will go from being one of two children to being one of twenty-six students vying for attention and praise. She will go from round-the-clock constant unconditional love and support to an objective world where she may, just possibly, not be the Be All End All.

Kindergarten represents the end of Molly’s innocence. It marks the end of leisurely mornings in our pajamas (since last year her preschool started at a very forgiving 9:30 and there was no such thing as “tardy” and no consequences for absences, medical, social, or what have you.) Now Molly will make her own friends and they won’t necessarily be the children of adults I befriend. At school she will have to navigate the labyrinth of hallways, the chaotic cafeteria, and playgrounds with boys who play rough.

Isabel will face her own paradigm shift as she adapts to a world without Molly always by her side. They are inseparable and derive great comfort from one another. Isabel will also have to find her way alone and make new friends. Last night Molly decided she wanted to give Isabel a gift to make her day easier, for Isabel would undoubtedly miss her terribly. It was an angel on a string. Molly’s note brought the first of many tears to my eyes.

It read, “Dear Isabel, This little angel reminds me of you. You are so sweet. I’m sorry I can’t play with you today. I wish I could be with you but I am in school. This angel looks a lot like you. You and her are the same cherub. I think you will have fun with this beautiful angel. You are my favorite girl. Love, Molly.”

And it is a monumental paradigm shift for me. I will have to accept all those things I am reluctant to accept: that my firstborn is out in the world where anything can happen, where school buses have no seat belts and bullies taunt the underdogs and kids say mean and hurtful things. That I can not protect her forever. That she will be fine without me. That these are hard pills to swallow but are ultimately positive and joyful.

No one slept much last night in anticipation of the first day. Molly came into my room at 4:30 this morning asking whether it was time for school yet. Each transition is like this, scary and exciting all at once. I will laugh at my wistful self of today when Molly shifts from elementary school to middle school, then to high school, and then–flash forward—to the day I take her to college. We want our children to be capable and independent and happy, but always and forever they remain in our hearts the babies we so tenderly held when they were helpless and new to the world.

I know Molly will adapt to the life of a kindergartner. The question is, will I?

Lisa Horak is a stay-at-home mom raising two young daughters, Molly and Isabel. She has written for non-profit organizations and is the co-editor of Heart of the Land and Off the Beaten Path, a fiction and non-fiction anthology of nature writing for The Nature Conservancy. She moved to Asheville last October from Washington, D.C., and is currently working on her first children’s book. [horak@charter.net]