First Grade Fears

Who doesn't have them?

My daughter, for one.  Me, though?  I'm a mess.

Girlie starts first grade tomorrow.  She is going from a class of 8 to a class of 32.  She has not been on a tour of the school.  She has not seen her classroom.  She found out the name of her teacher today.

And she's perfectly fine with all of that.

She has her first day of school outfit laid out, right down to the matching earrings.

She is excited and nervous all at the same time.

However, I'm bloody terrified.

Why?

 Because my sweet little girl is going out into a big, scary public school.  I went to private school from 2-12 grade -- I have no idea what a public school is made of.  But I know my Girlie.


And I know that she is a quiet type -- a mothering, old soul who is more comfortable with babies and adults than kiddos her own age.  She has friends her own age, but she prefers to play by herself or with her little sister when we go to the park.

She is not the class clown, the extrovert, the outgoing one.

Right now, she is sweet, and innocent, and calm.  She is artistic and a thinker.  Her world is black and white and small.  And tomorrow it is going to get very, very big.


I vividly remember being in first grade and having no friends.  Of sobbing hysterically in the middle of the playground.  Of being picked on and teased.  Of being called "Baby."

That's probably why I'm so scared for Girlie to start first grade.

But I have to be brave and strong and try to keep my fears from projecting onto her, so that she will continue to be excited and nervous at the same time. 
I poured all of this out to my husband last week -- sobbing as I told him how scared I was for her and that I was certain school was going to be horrible and what were we thinking sending her to public school and that we are making the worst mistake ever and we are going to ruin her forever because of this. 

He listened.  And then he asked, "Do you think about your first grade experience every day?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I sniffed.  "I only remembered because Girlie is starting.... shut up.  I'm not talking to you anymore."

He laughed and gave me a hug.  "She's going to be fine.  And I hope it is a little hard  for her, so she can grow from it."

Intellectually, I understand my husband's point.  

Emotionally, I think it's crap.  As a mother, I don't want anything to be hard for my children.  I want to protect them and their innocence as long as possible. 

And then the next day I read this article on my friend's Facebook wall -- "It's Not a 'Problem.'  It's Called Being A Child".

And I realized the author - and my husband -- was right.  I can't protect her forever as much as I want to.  Girlie's world is going to grow, and she needs to grow with it. 

That doesn't mean I have to like it.