What is going on?
I sit here today watching a news conference. The officer on the television is saying that a 32-year old man stormed a one-room school house armed with guns and planks of wood to secure the doors. Once inside he divided the boys from the girls. He released 15 boys and kept and bound between 10-12 young female students, ranging in age from 6-12. He proceeded to shoot all of the girls, killing some of them execution style before shooting himself. The man had no criminal record. He left suicide notes for his wife and children. Two hours after walking his own children to their bus stop, he was shooting innocent little girls. He said in rambling fashion in one of the notes he left that he was getting "revenge" for something that happened 20 years ago. These children were not even a glimmer in their parents’ eyes 20 years ago and now at least three little girls are dead and several others are fighting for their lives. Last week was Colorado, now Lancaster County in Pennsylvania. . . Amish country Pennsylvania.
When Columbine happened many years ago, I was camped out on my living room floor working on a project for one of my classes for my Masters degree in Education. It was Earth shattering then, as I worked on my teaching degree. Once I was a teacher it was terrifying and simultaneously annoying: the multiple school evacuations due to bomb threats scrawled on bathroom mirrors, the afternoons spent camped out in the stadium freezing since we were unable to retrieve any of our personal belongings before evacuating the building yet again, the inquiries from administration as to which students went to the bathroom and when to try to figure out who might have been behind the threat of the day. When I gave up my teaching career, I was especially glad to be done with the bomb threats and the security measures we were constantly being made aware of as they changed and evolved along with each new threat.
As a parent, the increasing amount of school shootings is even more alarming and unsettling. Years ago, other students were the shooters; now they are grown men who are entering our children’s schools and wreaking havoc. Before I had children, I considered homeschooling as an option because sending a child to a school just seemed terrifying to me. I talked myself out of it when I realized my daughter is as stubborn as I am and that it would probably just not work. I rationalized that this doesn’t happen in my area, that the media exaggerates and over reports on these stories, that the instance is actually very rare. Today, it happened close to home and every parent has to be thinking that if it can happen in a one-room Amish school house, My God, it could happen in my child’s school.
How is a parent supposed to protect a child at school? You can hope and pray that the school has safety measures sufficient to protect your children. You can pick and choose where you send your child based on which school you think is the safest. But let’s be honest. . . schools were not built to withstand being stormed by lunatics. School used to be a place where children were safe, where the biggest threat was a bully student. Now, there are grown men, armed with multiple weapons, who threaten our children’s safety and lives.
The only kind of evacuation I ever had to deal with as a child was the mandatory fire drill on occasion. Now children are exposed to much more. When I was a child, I played outside for hours at a time with my friends. Our yards and sidewalks were safe places. Now our playgrounds, sidewalks, and yards are tainted by the memory of Samantha Runnion. Our schools are the target of revenge seeking monsters.
Today I am mourning the loss of these innocent little Lancaster county girls. I am also mourning the fact that my children will never have the kind of care free childhood that I had. And I am angry as hell that I am raising children in this type of world. They deserve so much better.
Kindergarten is the New Junior High
When I went to Kindergarten, things were a lot different. I remember being friends with everyone. I played with boys and girls, but the boys I was friends with were just that. . . friends. I remember my teacher having a pretty structured routine for us, and I don’t recall a lot of down time with other classmates. Apparently Kindergarten has changed.
Kindergarten has been a big adjustment for our household. We’re not exactly morning people around here, so that was the first hurdle. The second seems to be one that will be on-going. I figured that I’d have a few years before I’d have to deal with any talk of boyfriends and catty girls, but I was very wrong. Kindergarten is the new Junior High.
Mother of the Year
I’m not going to win Mother of the Year. There truly is no hope for me. I took Big I to her acting class after school yesterday. It was the second week of the class. Her class, according to the schedule when we signed up, is scheduled for 3:45-4:15. When we arrived the first week, they told us they were moving it back a bit. I thought they said the class was going to now go from 4:15-4:45. So, I took Big I to class and when we walked in at 4:15 the door was shut and the other kids were already in there. The parents of these kids were sitting in the very small waiting area. I said to Big I, "Ooh, it looks like we’re a minute late. Get in there" as I opened the door for her. It was 4:16 and I figured I had 29 minutes to kill. Lil C does not sit well in small waiting areas, and I would prefer her not crawling around on the floor or walking in unfamiliar territory so we went to the park a few blocks away and did some swinging.
Without a watch on, and without my cell phone I was paranoid about being late to get Big I. So Lil C and I spent a very short amount of time at the park (she was bored with the swings after 5 minutes anyway) and went back to get Big I. I parked my car in front of the building and the time was 4:35. I thought I’d wait five more minutes and then go in to get her. I wanted to be five minutes early, just in case.
So, you can imagine my shock when at 4:38 I looked up and saw Big I plastering herself to the glass doors of the building entranceway in a fruitless effort to open the doors and get out, tears streaming down her face. I ran out of the car and up to the door to let her out. "I was so scared," she said as she sobbed into my stomach. "What do you mean?" I said. "You’re not even supposed to be done yet." "Well, they let us out and I was just sitting on the steps waiting for you and you weren’t here and everyone else left. . ."
I walked over to the car and opened the door for her and then something snapped. "No, we’re going back in there," I said. "We’re going to find out what the hell is going on here." So, with Lil C in my arms and Big I holding my hand, I went into the school to raise hell.
When I walked in, her acting teacher was already teaching another class. I went up to the receptionist and demanded to know, "What class is that?" as I gestured towards the classroom door. The receptionist told me that it was the class for 8-10 year olds. "Then exactly WHAT TIME does the previous class finish up?" I barked. I was getting more upset by the minute. ANYONE could have come along and grabbed Big I while I was returning from the park and waiting to go in and get her.
The receptionist looked at Big I’s tear streaked face and asked what happened. "Last week, someone told me this class was going to be 4:15-4:45. So, I drop her off and leave and come back 10 minutes early to get her and she’s at the door sobbing. What is going on?" I said. "Oh honey," the receptionist says to Big I, "You should have told me. You can sit with me until your Mommy gets here." That’s all very fine and good, but the point is, I am not EVER late to pick up my child. I’m the one who stands at the bus stop five minutes before her class is even dismissed. I’m the one who during summer acting camp, sat outside 20 minutes early every day JUST IN CASE.
I said to the receptionist, "That’s very nice of you. But I won’t be late again, if you could just tell me the correct time that this class starts and finishes."
4:00-4:30.
I wanted to scream. "You people really need to get your schedules straight," I said and walked out of there. Then I started thinking, did the other parents there not hear me? I mean, how could they not have? The waiting area is tiny. They were all looking at me as I let Big I in. Couldn’t one of them have said, "No, you’re 15 minutes late. This class started at 4:00." Not one. I would have spoken up, especially as I watched the Mom leave the school, knowing full well they wouldn’t be back in time.
And what’s up with the teacher just letting my 5-year old child out of the classroom without making eye contact with a parent to know that she’s now in someone else’s care? Next week I’m saying something to the teacher. Not that it will ever happen again, because from now on I’ll probably just stand outside the door watching the whole class, but they should be smart enough to not allow a 5-year old to leave the class completely unattended.
So, with my heart pounding and apologies to Big I running on a repetitive loop, we got back in the car. Because I had pulled Lil C in and out of the car six times now in the last 40 minutes, she wasn’t having any of that. She made herself into a human board and REFUSED to bend. It’s amazing to me how an 11 month old baby can be so strong that her mother can’t make her sit. Insane. It happens with the high chair everyday, but now the car seat too??? So, in an attempt to get her to bend, I lifted her up a bit and brought her back down again to let the back of her legs touch the seat so she would sit. It didn’t work. I tried it again and I bumped the top of her head on the ceiling of the car. Instant tears. . .
. . . for Lil C too.
That was one half hour I hope to never relive. And now, because Big I will be dismissed from class in exactly 18 minutes, I need to go stand at the bus stop so that I’m there a full 20 minutes before she even boards the bus.
Kindergarten Meltdown Countdown
Filed under: Mental Strain for Mama
For the past few days, I have been reduced to tears at the most ridiculous of things. I was watching Big I play with Lil C yesterday and just started crying. "What’s wrong Mommy?" Big I asked me. I was a blubbering fool, and it took me several minutes to even get out the words, "You’re just growing up and getting so big. That’s all." She just sort of chuckled at me. Somehow I’m thinking the first day of Kindergarten is going to be no laughing matter for me.
For the past few days, I’ve been feeling like one feels in the days leading up to something unpleasant, like a surgical procedure or something. The dread is thick and has been weighing heavily on me. I remember when Big I was born, thinking that now it was going to get tough. While pregnant with her, all her needs were taken care of as long as I ate smart and stayed healthy. On the outside, all bets were off. It was up to me to protect her and provide for her. Now, it’s going one step further. While many leave their children at day care or preschool long before it’s time for Kindergarten, I was not one of those Mom’s. Big I and I have been at home together all the time. This is going to be a big adjustment for all of us.
This week, an envelope came from Big I’s school. We finally found out who her teacher will be. There was a letter telling about all the basics of Kindergarten: what she needs, when she needs to be there (entirely too early in my opinion), when she needs to be picked up (not early enough if you ask me). There was also a name tag for Big I. Just looking at it got me all teary. But the first thing I pulled out of the envelope while still en route back to my front door was an envelope containing a tissue, a cotton ball, and a tea bag. It was addressed "Dear Parent" and this is what had me sobbing. It says:
"Thank you for entrusting your child to me. I promise to do my best everyday to be your child’s companion in learning. After, you have wiped your tears, make yourself a nice warm cup of tea. Put your feet up and relax. Then hold the cotton ball in your hand. The softness will help you to recall the gentle spirit of your child. I will work alongside you this year to help your child grow. Sincerely, Mrs. M"
With Lil C in one arm and Big I walking beside me, I was a certifiable blubbering mess. Complete with the hiccups that hard crying gives you, I struggled to hold it together enough to see my way into the house and straight to the tissue box. I’m getting the feeling that this week is going to be really hard.
I’m also thinking that Mrs. M should have sent home some tranquilizers and a box of tissues.
Despite my uncontrollable tears the past few days (mostly in private), Big I has been filled with excitement for the past few days. I never knew which teacher she really preferred, but when I told her she got Mrs. M, she was elated.
That was until today. I greeted Big I this morning by saying, "THREE MORE DAYS!" and there were instant tears. "NO!" she yelled. "I need more days than that. I need 17 or 50 days," she said. I hugged her and embarked on my usual happy tirade about how great Kindergarten is and how much she’s going to love going each day.
"What if I get hurt? I’ll be all alone," she said. I assured her that the school nurse would take care of her until I got there.
"But you’re going to LEAVE me there and go home without me." I assured her that we only live about five minutes from the school and that I could be there in a flash. I considered letting her know that it’s a distinct possibility that I’ll be camped out in the car outside the school for the entire time she’s inside.
"What if I get in trouble?" she cried. And then I laughed. "You’re not going to get in trouble. Do you know how many times Mommy was in trouble in all of the years I was in school?" I asked her. "How many?" she said. I held up a big goose egg. "None, zero, zilch," I said.
After some big hugs and stories of my own first day of Kindergarten, Big I calmed down. I decided that we should go out and get the last minute things Big I needed for school. What gal doesn’t love to go shopping? Our shopping excursion worked its magic, and Big I was feeling better about school again tonight at bedtime.
I’m just wondering how I’m going to be able to leave my child in the care of someone else for an entire morning. I am thankful that my husband will be accompanying me on Big I’s first day because I have a feeling it’s going to be a little rough for me to see the road on the way home. If he wasn’t going along, I have a feeling I’d probably sit there in my car and just sob for a while. It’s going to be a rough day for me. I hope that it’s nothing short of fabulous for Big I.
Kindergarten Meltdown Countdown
For the past few days, I have been reduced to tears at the most ridiculous of things. I was watching Big I play with Lil C yesterday and just started crying. "What’s wrong Mommy?" Big I asked me. I was a blubbering fool, and it took me several minutes to even get out the words, "You’re just growing up and getting so big. That’s all." She just sort of chuckled at me. Somehow I’m thinking the first day of Kindergarten is going to be no laughing matter for me.
For the past few days, I’ve been feeling like one feels in the days leading up to something unpleasant, like a surgical procedure or something. The dread is thick and has been weighing heavily on me. I remember when Big I was born, thinking that now it was going to get tough. While pregnant with her, all her needs were taken care of as long as I ate smart and stayed healthy. On the outside, all bets were off. It was up to me to protect her and provide for her. Now, it’s going one step further. While many leave their children at day care or preschool long before it’s time for Kindergarten, I was not one of those Mom’s. Big I and I have been at home together all the time. This is going to be a big adjustment for all of us.
This week, an envelope came from Big I’s school. We finally found out who her teacher will be. There was a letter telling about all the basics of Kindergarten: what she needs, when she needs to be there (entirely too early in my opinion), when she needs to be picked up (not early enough if you ask me). There was also a name tag for Big I. Just looking at it got me all teary. But the first thing I pulled out of the envelope while still en route back to my front door was an envelope containing a tissue, a cotton ball, and a tea bag. It was addressed "Dear Parent" and this is what had me sobbing. It says:
"Thank you for entrusting your child to me. I promise to do my best everyday to be your child’s companion in learning. After, you have wiped your tears, make yourself a nice warm cup of tea. Put your feet up and relax. Then hold the cotton ball in your hand. The softness will help you to recall the gentle spirit of your child. I will work alongside you this year to help your child grow. Sincerely, Mrs. M"
With Lil C in one arm and Big I walking beside me, I was a certifiable blubbering mess. Complete with the hiccups that hard crying gives you, I struggled to hold it together enough to see my way into the house and straight to the tissue box. I’m getting the feeling that this week is going to be really hard.
I’m also thinking that Mrs. M should have sent home some tranquilizers and a box of tissues.
Despite my uncontrollable tears the past few days (mostly in private), Big I has been filled with excitement for the past few days. I never knew which teacher she really preferred, but when I told her she got Mrs. M, she was elated.
That was until today. I greeted Big I this morning by saying, "THREE MORE DAYS!" and there were instant tears. "NO!" she yelled. "I need more days than that. I need 17 or 50 days," she said. I hugged her and embarked on my usual happy tirade about how great Kindergarten is and how much she’s going to love going each day.
"What if I get hurt? I’ll be all alone," she said. I assured her that the school nurse would take care of her until I got there.
"But you’re going to LEAVE me there and go home without me." I assured her that we only live about five minutes from the school and that I could be there in a flash. I considered letting her know that it’s a distinct possibility that I’ll be camped out in the car outside the school for the entire time she’s inside.
"What if I get in trouble?" she cried. And then I laughed. "You’re not going to get in trouble. Do you know how many times Mommy was in trouble in all of the years I was in school?" I asked her. "How many?" she said. I held up a big goose egg. "None, zero, zilch," I said.
After some big hugs and stories of my own first day of Kindergarten, Big I calmed down. I decided that we should go out and get the last minute things Big I needed for school. What gal doesn’t love to go shopping? Our shopping excursion worked its magic, and Big I was feeling better about school again tonight at bedtime.
I’m just wondering how I’m going to be able to leave my child in the care of someone else for an entire morning. I am thankful that my husband will be accompanying me on Big I’s first day because I have a feeling it’s going to be a little rough for me to see the road on the way home. If he wasn’t going along, I have a feeling I’d probably sit there in my car and just sob for a while. It’s going to be a rough day for me. I hope that it’s nothing short of fabulous for Big I.
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