Kinderangst

There were a flurry of emails and texts last week in my little world. Most of them went like this: "How was the first day? Great! She loves her teacher. You? Great. No tears from either of us! I’m so happy. I just wish this rain would stop." And, "How’d it go? Good. I like the teacher. There are like 5 Max’s in his class. I wonder how that’s going to go. But otherwise, he’s really happy."

My daughter and her friends started kindergarten last week. It’s a really big deal. How could it not be? Kindergarten.

I know a lot of parents can’t believe it when their little ones hit a milestone like this; shaking their heads saying it feels like yesterday their child was a just a little baby. Not my girl. It feels like she’ll be applying for a driver’s license any minute.

Kate has always been brave, full of sass and ready for anything. “Kate’s a champion,” my husband says when she does something amazing- which in our minds- is often. She stuck her head under water in her first swim lesson when she was three. She’s kind and polite (usually) when we stick her in new situations with adults, which is probably too often and not terribly fair. Born a month early and weighing only 4 pounds, she was the smallest baby in the nursery at Tisch Hospital that week. No NICU. No extra days in the hospital. Tiny and tough. Champion, indeed.

That’s why I was a bit overwhelmed- ok- I freaked out- when Kate had a bit of a hard time adjusting to school. The first day went well. She instantly liked her teacher after she complimented Kate on her shirt and told her that she liked fancy things too. Kate took her hand and walked into the classroom. There were no tears. Mike and I beamed with pride as we walked out the door. This was going to be great.

Pick up was fine too. Since it was raining I took her and her brother to the mall for a lunch and something special to celebrate her first day (apparently heaven to a little girl is a Claire’s store). Then, the meltdown. She pitched an epic kicking and crying fit for everyone at the Westchester to see. Ok. Fine. It was a big day, I can’t say I was all that surprised by the outburst.

But this was the tip of the iceberg of meltdowns, cries and dark moods, we experienced last week. While the weather forecast perpetually had a chance of a thunderstorm last week, we lived under a perpetual chance of tantrum. I was floored. I kept trying to ask and engage her to see if something happened at school or I would try a different tact and only speak in positives.

“So, what was your favorite part of your day? Who is your favorite girl or boy in class? Want me to see if I can set up a playdate?”

The answers were as negative as a 15 year-old’s:

“Nothing. No one. Why can’t I just stay home and play with you?”

I explained that home schooling isn’t really my thing.

Drop offs were fine. No drama there. Pick-ups were ok. While the other kids were playing in the playground for a few minutes after school, Kate would often ask to go home. She missed her friends from nursery school. Each night she’d ask if she had to go back. I was beside myself. I’m a nerd. I loved school. I got married in September because I love this season so much. How can my daughter not love school? And I wished I knew what was making her so unhappy.

Friday it was sunny and her teacher went outside while the kids played. I tried to appear casual but I’m sure came across like a total pain in the neck parent she dreads:

“So, how’s it going?”

“Fine”.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She’s fine.”

Great. Now she thinks I’m a nut.

The weekend was good, Kate was back to acting like herself. I told myself that she just needed time to adjust, but come Monday morning she was nervous again. She was silent as we walked to school. But then we walked in the door she smiled and ranoff with barely a wave good-bye. Oy. I don’t get it, I thought to myself.

I emailed my friend who I consider an expert because she has a second grader about the situation. She emailed me back reminding me of some of the troubles she had in the past with her daughter who in my mind is all but perfect.

“Get plenty of sleep and drink heavily,” she wrote at the end of the email. The woman is a sage.

Then the back-to-school picnic came. Kate ran right in and I don’t think sat down for a second. Kate was thrilled to see friends and her teacher. This time I leveled with the teacher. I knew the picnic wasn’t the place to talk about it, but I had to know what was going on at school. This time, she swore Kate was fine and promised she’d tell me if there was a problem and this time I believed her. Kate played and played until the rain came. We ran all the way home.

“I didn’t want to leave. I love school.” Suddenly the skies cleared. I don’t think we’ve seen the rain since.

Jen Geller is a freelance journalist who has covered the economy and markets for over a decade at a major financial news outlet. She lives in Scarsdale with her husband and 2 children. Jen has yet to bake a successful batch of cookies.