Although {p} had a great first day of school, the rest of the week was more than a little rough. He cried at night before going to bed, and he cried in the mornings before going into the classroom. Kindergarten is a big adjustment. Getting dressed when it is still dark outside, being away from home for six hours, coming home, eating supper, getting a bath, and going to bed just to wake up and do it all again. I could tell that he had fun at school. It was just the anticipation of the long day, and the fear of the unknown that caused him to cry. That, coupled with the stress of change, made for one tired, overwhelmed little boy.
The hardest part for me was that {p} would say,
over and over, "I can't. I just can't."
It was hard for two reasons...
He had never expressed such a defeated statement before.
and
I knew he could.So, I did what many other parents have done before me, and will continue to do after me. I pushed. I pushed him away from me, away from his safe home, and toward the unknown of school. Figuratively and literally. I pushed him down the hall. I pushed him into the classroom. I pried his arms away from my neck, turned him around, and pushed him away.
All because I knew he could.
And today he did.
No tears, no shaky voice. Confidence. He might not have been too sure of himself, but he was sure of my faith in him.
Months ago I tore an article by Katrina Kenison out of a Family Circle magazine. She was writing about teaching her son to drive. I knew that at some point her words would ring true with me. Sooner, as it turned out, rather than later.
"...I'm finally learning to accept that fear doesn't keep a child safe, any more than faith assures immunity from harm. It's no longer my job to protect my son from the world but rather to let him know that I believe he can handle it - and that I trust him enough to let him try."
Well said, and so very true. And that is why I pushed.
