I’m feeling good today, y’all.
Sometimes, as life is in the process of happening, I don’t want to write about it because…I don’t know how it’ll turn out.
We started Bean in a preschool two months ago, for one day per week (TWO MONTHS. Keep that in mind.) And my outgoing, smiley, chatty little girl lost it. She dove into a deep hole of separation anxiety, which was so swift as to be shocking. Not only did she collapse into sobs at school, but she became jittery and unsure and scared nearly all the time, all day long.
As I told Dave, it felt like I was suddenly parenting a completely different kid. She went from being the kid who preened brightly at any and all teachers and who insisted on “helping” librarians, into a kid who refused to leave my lap, whimpering in fear. This is a child who has been in baby and toddler classes since she was 3 months old; and she now trembled in every class, keeping a hand on me to make sure I was always rightthere.
I had no idea what to do. Separation anxiety? In a 2 year old? Hadn’t we already dealt with this over a year ago?
Her preschool is small and informal; the teachers insisted that the right thing to do was stay with her until she acclimated to the class. As in, stay for the entire class.
I know! I know. I know what most of you are thinking. The best thing to do is leave her, and she’ll get used to it. Rip the band aid off.
The second week, she did even worse than the first week. The third week, even worse than the second. She spent the entire 3 hours clutching on to me, weeping. If a teacher looked at her, her lower lip came out and she sobbed. Note that she was sobbing, as she was sitting on my lap. I was clearly there, but she was so terrified of me leaving, that the thought of it happening made her heave huge sobs.
She started asking me about where everyone else’s mommies and daddies were? When her cousins started kindergarten in September, her first question was whether their mommy went to kindergarten too? No, mommies don’t go to kindergarten. Daddies? No, no daddies. Yiayias? Nope, yiayias don’t go to kindergarten either. I realized it had never occurred to her that children go places without their parents or nannies or grandparents. She was suddenly mulling a huge shift in her understanding of her (small) world.
I took out all the separation anxiety books; we read “Owl Babies” frequently. At first it was too much for her to handle. She looked at me in wide-eyed terror and sadness. It was no relief at all when Mama Owl shows up at the end of the book. The first night we read it, she had trouble falling asleep, so sad about the owl babies all alone.
As we creeped into the the 5th week of preschool, with this extrovert child still clinging to me, I was so frustrated that I grilled the teachers whether this was really the best strategy. I felt like we were prolonging the separation, making her sad and achy week after week. Surely, it might be best if we got this over with and I left?
“Oh no,” the teachers said, “that does work for some kids. Bean is not that kind of kid.” All our friends told us the opposite.
(OH. You may be wondering why I kept to this, given that she clearly didn’t like it. Well, she was obsessed with preschool when she wasn’t at preschool. She’d talk about all her teachers and her friends; she’d sit down with her stuffed animals and sing the preschool intro song and have snack time. She would show off her preschool backpack, lunch bag, and art work to anyone who’d listen. This made me think that she liked the idea of preschool; she was just terrified of the part where I leave. So, I saw it as my job to help her attain her goal of going to preschool.)
At week 6, I gave up prodding Bean to do anything but sit on my lap. No more, “Bean, the other kids are having a snack. Do you want to sit and have a snack?” “Do you want to go climb with Susie?” I eventually realized my prodding was making things worse. So, I just let her sit. I brought a New Yorker, read with my head down, and gave up trying to change her.
Of course, once you give up trying to change your kid and accept them, is when you’ll see the most progress. I wish I could tattoo that across my brain.
Today was week 8, and today she played with her friends nearly the entire time. No tears, just immense joy that she’s taking part in preschool. She threw people her huge smile and skipped and danced around. Her teachers started excitedly whispering to each other “LOOK AT BEAN!”
The teachers were happily surprised at her exuberance, but to me, this is her natural state. I was proud but I also just felt good. This is my daughter, do you see now? She’s going to be ok. And? The teachers were right. Maybe other kids can handle the band aid approach, but Bean couldn’t and I’m glad they accepted it and told me to accept it as well. We all worked together to patiently (so patiently) help her overcome her fears and anxieties.
It’s just a good day.
