Today before teaching I stopped in at DD’s preschool to officially withdraw her. I was surprised at how sad I felt walking into the building. And when I went into the classroom to say goodbye to the teacher, I felt a tangible pang of sadness in my chest. They were between classes, and I said my goodbyes to the teacher (my fave of the two) and she was really supportive of my decision and very kind. When I left, I had to really ponder why I had felt so sad being there and knowing we would never be back, even though I knew I was making the right decision.
The classroom is lovely. It is such a warm and welcoming place, with high ceilings, skylights, and lots of light. Beautifully decorated, lots of nature. The activity centres all around with their little chairs and little tables and handwritten signs with clear printing spelling out words, names, etc. The cubbies, with little boots and coats hanging in them. It’s all just so damned CUTE. I remember packing DD’s snack that first day, and packing her rain pants in her little backpack. I was so excited! How adorable she looked running in from the playground to see me at the end of the day…
I’m not sure why I enjoyed all that so much – perhaps it was the “rite of passage” so ingrained in our culture, that “first day of school”. Perhaps it just boiled down to “playing with dolls”, just one of those cute “kid things” we do, like taking them for their first haircut, that are so benign for most people, but so poignant if you are the parent and its your child. I still haven’t quite put my finger on why I was so sad there today, knowing it was over.
But…I recognized that my sadness was about losing that experience for myself. My sadness is not for her. It just wasn’t working for her. And frankly, I’m relieved (see future posts on socialization). But the sadness today, yeah that took me by surprise. I’ll have to keep mulling over my thoughts to figure it out. Not because it matters anymore (it’s over, we’re done, we never have to go back), but just because I like to figure out what goes on in my head sometimes. Don’t you?