I think the most challenging aspect of raising children is the realization that despite your best attempts to protect them, they may meet with unsettling experiences that send their little psyches reeling. It’s searing that even though you love them more than anything else on this planet or beyond, you can’t always spare them unhappiness.
On occasion, though, you get lucky.
Since starting her new preschool three months ago, Ava has had a tough time. Change is hard whether you’re three or 30, and Ava’s encountered a lot of it lately. Like her mom, it throws her for a loop. The new baby, my return to work and the transition from a small, in-home daycare atmosphere to a large center are all undoubtedly challenging.
While I loved both the curriculum and the instructor at her preschool, I think I’ve always been uncomfortable with the size. To be honest, I’m not sure if the change was harder on me or her. I certainly benefited from in-home care: You know exactly who is caring for your child, and you know that provider loves her more than you ever thought possible. Believe me, nothing comforts a working mother more.
Maybe that becomes the case as you grow into a larger center, but it’s not apparent straightaway. I reasoned that moving Ava to a large preschool was a logical step, one that would prepare her for the years of public school ahead. I thought my level of discomfort would dissipate. It didn’t. Moreover, I grew to dread morning drop-off: Despite the assurances of the staff that she calmed almost immediately, I knew my leaving her there was very hard on her. And, that’s not a very comforting thing to think about on the way to work.
So, when a spot opened at a very small Montessori preschool in town, we were thrilled. Still, though, as many will attest, decisions to not come easily to me. Add a bit of stress, and I can barely dress myself. It was a challenging week, but ultimately, we agreed that moving her to a smaller, calmer environment would be better.
The only thing that prevented me from jumping at the opportunity was a fear that she’d go through another three-month period of difficult adjustment. I agonized over whether it was fair to move her from a place she was just starting to know, and I wondered who the move was really for–her, or me. But when I dropped her off at the center Thursday morning, I just knew I never wanted to do it again.
I called the Montessori provider on the way to work to secure the spot, and I took Ava to visit that afternoon. She was quiet as she surveyed the new classroom and met the other children, but on the way out she said, “I won’t cry at this preschool, Mommy. I like it here.”
I had my doubts, but true to her word, she didn’t shed a tear when I dropped her off this morning. She smiled and said, “Bye, Mom.” At 11 a.m., the new provider called to say that between the building blocks and yoga session, she was having a great day.
It’s a lot of change (again) for those of us that don’t handle it particularly well, but I hold hope that we made the right decision this time around. I think this is a better environment, and one that’s well suited to her personality. At least I hope so.
If all else fails, I can cling to the words of my friend Lori: At least her long term memory isn’t yet established.
Smith Family Weblog 