Transitional Tears

As I anticipated, the transition to Montessori was difficult for Toby. I knew, in theory, he would be really excited to "go to school," and through the summer, we visited his school as much as possible so he would be aware of the place he'd be going in September.

Since Toby was 3-months-old he has always had a nanny that came to our house. He wouldn't have to leave his secure area and she had fun things planned for him every day. Sure, there were days he didn't want me to go to work but, usually when I walked away he wouldn't meltdown or cry. I was always the one to walk away from him.

September 1st was the first day he had to walk away from me. It nearly killed us both.

For eight of the nine days he has been in school thus far, drop-off was something I dreaded. Drop-off left me with a broken heart for hours after he entered his classroom. Drop-off was the kind of thing nightmares are made of; you've probably seen it in your dreams-- the child clutching to your leg, wailing, grasping any piece of clothing or fistful of hair they can hang onto while you and the teacher try to pry their desperate little hands off. Yeah. It was that bad for us. I hated it and had to fight my natural instinct to bust through the door after he went inside and scoop him up.

I would assume many parents, like myself, have a really hard time tolerating and allowing their child to feel discomfort of any kind. Particularly emotional. But, I also knew I would be doing him a great disservice to not acknowledge how he was feeling and validate that. Meaning, I wasn't going to tell him he's fine or to not cry. I wasn't going to tell him that everything will be okay. Obviously it's not fine for him right now and I'm not going to insult his emotional intelligence by pretending this isn't difficult for him. So, during his first week (he goes to school 3 days per week) we would talk about drop off every night after school and in the morning during breakfast.

By the second week things hadn't gotten any better. I would actually say they got worse. In between the first and second week we went up to my parents farm in Maine (arguably, Toby's second favorite place in the world) and he was surrounded by his family and (most particularly) his Mimi and Papa who he has totally wrapped around his fingers. So, being in the company of his family for 4 straight days made the next school week exponentially harder. The first day of the second week was the worst.

The school has two options at drop off: Pull up to the curb and have the Director remove your child from the car, or walk your child to the door. Up until the second week, I had been walking him to the door. Week 2- Day 1 I tried the curbside drop off to see if it was easier on him.

That was a mistake.

Toby lost it when his teacher took him out of the car. He reached around the headrest on my seat and grabbed a handful of my hair, refusing to let go. He wailed. I could only look at him with tear-filled eyes as I drove away.

At that moment, I knew he would need that last little piece of physical contact before he left me for the day.

I did a ton of reading and asked one of my friends, who is an early childhood expert (and coincidentally has a son who started at Toby's school too- she has been such a support to me) if she had any suggestions to make this easier. She mentioned that routine would be a good place to start.

I know many other parents that have little ones starting out this fall so, I'll share what has worked for us (so far!) and maybe these things will work for you.

We developed a formula in the morning-- things we do every morning to not just reduce Toby's anxiety, but also make room for it. My kid has absolutely no sense of urgency about anything (he gets this from his father) so if I try to rush him, or not leave room for the things he thinks are important, I go to work feeling like shit. We've all been there. You have somewhere to go and your child notices a toy they've had for years and suddenly it's completely necessary they play with it. Then, because you're in a rush, you become this relentless asshole warning them, "We're gonna be late! COME ON! Hurry up!" Then you feel awful all day.

At night Aaron and I get EVERYTHING ready so the morning is as low stress as possible. Ironing is done, lunches are packed, showers are taken. Everything. The only thing we have to do is feed Toby breakfast and walk the dogs.

Just before Toby and I leave, we have a transition book. He gets to pick the book every day. We sit on the couch and read it. He knows this is the last thing we do before we get in the car so there are no surprises and he knows the next transition is to get in the car.

Immediately when I put him in his seat, I hand him this little plastic skunk we've named "Stinky." He ONLY gets to hold "Stinky" when he's going to school. I also give him three of his President crackers to eat. We drive the same route without deviation (which means I have to anticipate the night before if I need to get gas and I do it before I go home that evening.) On the way to get on the highway we always pass a gaggle of kids waiting for their bus and we wave to them from the car and talk about how they are going to school... just like Toby. One of the doctors at my practice also recommended a song that she used to play for her children when they would go to school. It is legitimately the cheesiest most 1980's song/video I've ever viewed, but I was able to buy the song and burned it to a disc and we listen to it (and sing it) all the way to school. Toby LOVES the song and I do too. (Click here to hear the song. It's attached to the video, so, close your eyes because the video is soooooo 1980s, LOL.)

Stinky

Once we arrive at school I park far away from the building and we slowly walk to the door together. He gets to hold "Stinky" all the way to the door. Just before we get to the door, I give him a drink of water, kiss him like a French person (a kiss on each cheek- he loves this- weirdo) he gives me "Stinky" and I whisper something I always say to him before he walks to the teacher.

At the suggestion of another Doctor at my practice, we have a set time where he knows both Dada and Mama are thinking about him. Every single day we pack a note in his lunch. Mostly, Aaron is in charge of this. Obviously, Toby can't read, so Aaron draws him a new picture for his lunchbox each day. We discussed with him that when he opens his lunch box, every day, he'll see the picture we drew for him. When he sees the picture he should pause for a minute and think about us and we'll think of him during his lunchtime too. So, when all three of us are thinking of each other, we'll be together in that moment, in our hearts.  We also explained that when he sees the lunchtime note, it means the day is more than half over and he'll soon get to see one of us.  His teacher told us that he LOVES his lunchtime notes.

Some of our artwork- hehehe

I've noticed since incorporating a routine that he understands, he feels way less anxious and the tears have significantly decreased. Yesterday, was a completely tear free day and he walked into the school with his little head held high. It was such a relief.

Toby says that he loves school and is always happy when we pick him up. He just doesn't like to leave Mama. Hopefully we've turned a corner and things will be mostly smooth sailing. Wish us luck!