Nash is starting school in June, and in preparation for that, we have enrolled her in summer school, which is more like an intro to preschool program at our prospective school. It's so the kids who are first-timers can get a grasp of the school set-up, familiarize themselves with the surroundings and the people. Let me start by saying that this is a really great program where kids can immerse themselves in their new environment, but also for parents to at least know what to expect come June and keep their expectations in check for preschool. This part was so true for me.
The first few days in summer school were tough for Nash, but also for her mommy. On her first day of school, Nash cried. She was doing well by herself for the first half hour and then she got startled by a loud noise and started crying. As her mother, I can tell if she was only "acting" or if she was really terrified. I saw the latter in her eyes as her teacher handed her back to me and my daughter wrapped her entire body in my arms.
At that moment I wanted to say to hell with all of this, I'm taking my child and I'm going to home school her and we'll be happy in our own little bubble. But I know that she needed this. She needs to learn to adapt and she needs go to school.
On the second day of summer school, my little diva didn't want to mingle with the other kids, didn't want to participate in the activities and was basically clinging to me. While the other kids were stomping and singing along with the teacher, Nash, who was our home's personal entertainer and production number, was less than keen on joining them. I would encourage her to join in and even tried clapping and singing along with them, but it didn't work.
That frustrated me a lot. I never really thought of myself as a stage mother, but knowing how great my daughter is in singing or dancing and knowing how much of a superstar she is, I couldn't get with the fact that she was being a wallflower in kindergarten. I got to a point where I felt my temper was simmering and I was close to scolding her for not participating. That was the time that I decided to step out of the room and leave Nash with her Ate (our helper). I knew I wouldn't be able to help her in that posture.
The moms outside the classroom must have seen the frustration in my face and they reassured me that it was okay. "That's normal," the school's principal said. I told them I needed to step out because I was getting so frustrated. "Please don't be," said the principal. It's part of the first day of school blues. The teachers were used to it. But I was not. I was used to my daughter being so talkative in our house. To her being our Little Miss Sunshine.
At that point I realized that I've been expecting too much from her. She was always this achiever in my eyes that I couldn't bear with the fact that she's having a little trouble coping up with her new environment. Then it hit me. I was turning into that mother. The mother who expected too much from her kids, who forced them into doing something they're not yet comfortable with. I don't want to be that mother.
I was also shy and timid growing up, but I never remembered my mother forcing me to open up and participate when I'm not ready. I knew this mother not from my own parents, but from aunts and uncles who would force us to perform a song or dance number in family reunions. Sometimes we would be cajoled or bribed into doing it, but sometimes we really wouldn't, no matter how much they forced us to. Then they would shake their heads in disappointment and we wouldn't hear the end of it until the party was over.
While I realize now that maybe they did mean well, like they really thought we were that talented that we should show it to the world, or they just wanted us to experience the same fun they were having being in front of the crowd (being the extroverts that they are), I also remembered feeling awful that we were being forced into doing something we didn't want to do, that we almost dreaded coming to reunions, and even worse, feeling that we disappointed our elders.
I know my daughter is a superstar. I believe that in my heart. But I realized that I shouldn't be forcing her to do something she's not yet comfortable with or channeling my frustrations on her that way. While it's okay to tell her to keep trying and not give up, I should give her more room to adjust and figure things out in her own pace. When she's ready, she'll open up. It might take time, but as her mother, I have to be patient with her as she starts her journey in this new environment and reassure her that Mommy will always be there guiding and supporting her.
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