Today my youngest daughters, 5 year old twins Olivia and Rebekah started kindergarten. I am sure they will be just fine, but it was stressful nonetheless. I woke up with a nasty headache from grinding my teeth all night. Erik cried. He always cries though….he’s my sweetie Here is a picture.
Rebekah (of course) is the TINY one (she has a form of dwarfism-spondelyephisyseal dysplasia) and Olivia is the way overly excited ginormous one (there is nothing technically wrong with Olivia, by the way, we just refer to her as “special” hehe). In terms of fear, excitement, nervousness and anticipation….I think that the twins starting school was very comparable to them being born!
It was a pretty normal day in a lot of ways, but it started much earlier. Rebekah went to bed very well last night, which is incredibly unusual. Olivia not as easily, but eventually, she settled down and closed her eyes. Not as much bickering between them and their brother.
This morning Olivia must have woken up EARLY. Really early actually, because my alarm went off at 5 am and I heard her moving around before that. She started the morning watching in tv in our bedroom. Eventually though she must have gone to the living room, because I could hear the delay echoing words and bad acting. I was expecting about that time to wake up and coerce Rebekah into consciousness but aha, she came running through my bedroom door with her top on and her pants waving from her hand. It reminded me of a runner crossing the finish line with their chest carrying across the tape, announcing their win.
“Wait,” I said, “I want to get you both in the bathtub first, before you get dressed.” They were excited about that of course. Quickly I washed their hair and scrubbed them up. I dried them off and wrapped Bekah in a towel and flannel blanket on the couch to keep her warm and cozy while I helped Olivia get ready for her big day. She put on her new pink t-shirt with the embroidered hot pink daisies and the plaid green and hot pink skort. I squirted some silicone conditioner the consistancy of olive oil into the palm of my hand, rubbed my palms together, and then started rubbing my shiny hands through her course unruly mullet. After telling her at least 12 times to please go to Chelsea’s room and get me a brush, I was able to get her mane blowed dry and move on to Rebekah. Bekah was much easier of course. She had already redressed so a few minutes with the hair dryer and Viola, her Dorothy Hamel haircut was perfect. They were both smiles and satisfied with the job I had done.
There was a quick trip to Nana and Papa’s house to take medicines and pick up shoes, and the next thing you know, Erik and I were parking behind North Wayne Elementary…dropping them off for their first day.
There was a long wait in the hall of the kindergarten Cul-de-sac. We got there at about 7:45 am, and the last bell rings at 8:00 am, but the kindergarten teachers didn’t even get back to their areas until 8:15 am because they were waiting up front for all the bus riders to unload.
While we were waiting we showed each of the girls their names on the bulletin boards outside of their rooms. Rebekah was a star on her teacher’s board, Olivia was a spider.
That made them both excited. To see their names. To know they were welcome. In the long wait Bekah’s legs began to hurt so she asked me to pick her up. I told her, “None of the other kindergartener’s have parents carrying them….”so she instead asked, “if we could just sit down for a minute.” I sat down Indian style and she perched herself on my right knee, while Olivia clumsily made herself at home on the left one. Within seconds a girl named Aniyah was befriending Olivia of course. I took a picture of her and her mother to “mail to Aniyah’s grandparents” the mother divulged, “they will be so proud.” She too was proud. She just beamed her smile was so wide. The mother looked younger than me at first, but the more we smiled at the girls doing their performance, I started to see the streaks of grey that were hiding beneath her black hair. I didn’t talk to her much beyond that, so I don’t know if Aniyah was her only daughter, the oldest, or the youngest, but that day, that moment, she was most certainly the only. The two best friends quickly became robots (or “robocks” as Aniyah said it), moving their arms mechanically with their elbows bent and talking in monotone voices. Despite their loudness they didn’t draw much attention because of the noise and amount of people in the center circle. I looked around and noticed a few other scared five year olds looking from behind their mothers legs at the two silly girls, smiling. Even oozing with excitement Olivia and her new friend mustered up the best monotone voices they could find and “attacked” first the little girl’s fun mother in the blue scrubs and hair tightly pulled back in a ponytail. She clearly had played this game before, because precisely on cue she backed up against the wall and in a much exaggerated fashion protested and curled into a ball. Then Olivia’s own dad, Erik, became the target. A little more self conscious he smiled and put his hands on his hips as they marched toward him, and offered up a little protest as a token, but didn’t compete well with the more experienced mom. He tried to distract them by asking the little girl her name…..”ROBOCK” She said, never breaking character…“ My Name Is ROBOCK.” Bekah just watched them both. Checking things out. Smiling, but not letting her guard down.
About this time we see the waist high crowd begin to make its way back to the cul-de-sac. Everyone seeming to stop right in the middle as the teachers tried to sort out who went where. Bekah’s teacher, Mrs. Avance, was wearing a pretty white dress with black embroidery, which I think made both me and Bekah happy. A few weeks earlier she was talking to herself about school and I heard her say, “I don’t know WHAT my teacher will be wearing on her first day.” I quickly interrupted and informed her, “Bekah…it doesn’t matter if she shows up in legwarmers and a swimsuit! You keep your mouth SHUT!” Bekah is my diva, and choosing her clothes each morning is the most important part of her day. I just don’t know how she would have fit with a teacher who didn’t share that passion. I had showed her a picture of Ms. Avance from the night before when her dad and I went to Kindergarten information night, but when I saw her teacher confidently walk down the hall with her herd of kids I made sure to point her out again. “Look, Bekah….doesn’t your teacher have a BEAUTIFUL dress?” This seemed to bring her back for a second. She looked at me and smiled.
“I will stay here with Bekah,” Erik said. He went to Olivia’s class the night before, and I think, quite honestly, he was more worried about Rebekah. I could see him so much in her. So scared, and vulnerable. I think that in a matter of minutes he too was once again that five year old boy who was so excited to be there, but as an adult he knew the next chapter. He knew that in the hours, or days, or months to come it wouldn’t be all fun and smiles. Children would taunt her. Tease her. Break her spirit. Break her heart. Make her feel like she didn’t belong, or fit. He wanted to walk her to her desk and protect her, protect her like he wished someone could have protected him. Unbeknownst to him all of the parents escorting their kid’s that day were all sharing that same fear. About that time Mrs. Avance announced, “Say goodbye to your parents, kids!” I was with Olivia so I missed this part, but Erik said that it was symbolic, yet uneventful. He showed her to her seat, she blew him a kiss, crossed her arms over her chest and threw him a hug, and that was it. He was done. She was ready. He went to the office to deposit money in their lunch accounts, while Olivia and I waited for her day to begin.
While Rebekah was getting comfortable I was still in the center of the circular hallway where all of the classrooms came together, with Olivia. Mrs. Rushmore was handing out namecards with their names printed on them, laminated, and strung end to end with a fuzzy piece of red yarn. As she asked everyone their names, she gave them their tag and told them to get in line. Occasionally she would come across a child she didn’t know, or a language she didn’t recognize and she would pause for a second to finish that task. But then she would always return, asking once again, “Is there anyone in my class without a nametag?” Olivia was a little nervous I think. Excited of course, but nervous too. She, unlike Rebekah, was probably the tallest five year old in the hallway, but she was clueless to any of those differences. “I don’t have a nametag,” Olivia said clearly. “What is your name honey?” the teacher bent down and asked. “Olivia,” Livy stated. “Olivia,” she repeated as she sorted through her handful of laminated cards. The strings were all getting tangled, but she thread her fingers through them and pulled Olivia’s out, handing it to her, as she got in line. This made Olivia happy. Now she instantly had something in common with all of these strangers that surrounded her. They all had different clothes, and shoes, and backpacks, and parents, but in their nametags they were united. We continued to stand in the hallway, in no rush to be in the front of the line, when her teacher, Mrs. Rushmore, gave her first instructions. “Children, say goodbye to your parents and go in the room to look for your seat. There will be a nametag in front of it that matches the one you are wearing. If you aren’t sure, look at the nametag you are wearing please.” She addressed the children of course, but it was pretty clear that this plea was really to the parents. “Let them go” was honestly the only thing I got from those three sentences. The obedient line filed inside the classroom. Mrs. Rushmore knew better than to shut the door immediately of course. I stood out there with three or four other mothers, obviously peering in to make sure our children found their chairs before we felt safe enough to leave. We couldn’t leave yet! Our jobs wouldn’t be done when they got to the doors. Only when they were all sitting, attentive and ready to learn could we release the breath we had been holding since daybreak.
After that we were done. Erik and I walked to the car. Exchanged our thoughts and our first impressions. I lamented on how big they’d become, he shed a couple tears, scared about what was next. It honestly reminded me of the last OB/GYN appointment we’d shared. We were so excited, and nervous, but scared. We both knew that this was a huge moment. A dividing line that separates their lives, and ours. There was no going back. They had started the road that eventually would end without us. We would no longer be their only influence. Neither they nor we would be “perfect.” Consequences could no longer be negotiated. Personalities and meltdowns wouldn’t be accepted and justified. All of those things that we had taught them and shielded them from would be expired. Now they would be subjected to everyone else’s standards, and expectations, and uncaring criticism instead of closely guarded by ours. What a scary day!
