You are a brilliant, spirited, now-kindergarten-aged student who has shined brightly in your young life.
From the rapid-fire way you flew into this world five and a half years ago,
to the 4:40 a.m. daily waking time you maintained for years as a toddler,
to the energy with which you hurtle through each day
and the strong opinions you've held about sleep, food, play, clothes, music, and more...
you are destined to succeed as a student, and as a lifelong learner and determined leader,
blazing your way over hurdles and persisting through hard times,
and will be someone who will undoubtedly change our world for the better
as you grow into an adult.
I was so excited for you to start your first year of formal "school" this year,
as I remember fondly those awkward but exciting times of starting class after summer.
I couldn't wait to see how you would blossom in such an environment,
one which brought me so much joy as a nerdy young girl (and for decades since)
and which would allow me to re-live the grade school experience again
now as an adult and mother,
through the eyes of a (my own dear) child looking towards your future.
When, back in the spring, we were all told to stay home and wear masks, I grieved
that you may not remember your preschool teachers' and friends' faces
and that you would not be able to witness the full smiles of those that love you,
or that you'd feel the weighty loss of not being able to a library or playground for a very long time.
You have shown me that kids are resilient and adaptable,
that they are incredibly capable and versatile learners;
you remind me daily that you are okay despite it all (and we will be, too),
and that masks don't hide love.
So while I have cried and wallowed in Zoom gloom and doom
that your introduction to your kindergarten teacher and elementary school today
was to be through headphones and a glowing screen, without me or your father by your side,
but which was facilitated by the heroic childcare teachers that have helped to raise you
into the kind, loving, and smart being that you are
and who have allowed us to keep working to keep our community healthy,
you continue to smile at being "allowed" to use technology
that was previously a special weekend perk,
and are making the most of staying connected and learning virtually "at a distance,"
even though we wish it were another way.
And despite the chaotic nature of this historic and devastating year,
and the overwhelm of coordination of schedules, log-ins, passwords, connectivity, and screens,
of interpersonal disconnection and disruption despite our privilege to have virtual contact,
and though I am having a hard time swallowing my grief
and hiding my tears for you and for all the young children of this world,
for the unjust theft of this year for school and for your childhood
and of not having things be "normal," and developmentally appropriate,
for none of this being your fault,
yet for you having to bear the steep price of the failure of the adults in this country
to keep you and all people safe,
you teach me that "normal" is an ever-moving target,
"normal" is what you know and make of it,
and we can forgive, forget, and keep bouncing back.
I despair that you are being asked to carry the burden,
in the most unnatural and unfair of consequences
of your elders not playing by the rules;
however, you show me that
we will make it to the other side of this,
stronger, knowing more,
one day at a time.
I grieve the loss of your in-person kindergarten experience,
but through this shared trauma,
we are (I am) being taught so many important lessons
about how to get through what life throws at us
and to be okay with all of the "unknowns"
as, while all of these adjustments seem hard,
they're not impossible.
Sometimes kids can be the best teachers for adults.
It won't always be this way.
Someday, you will have your first "real" day of in-person elementary school,
and I will cry tears of joy, pride, and of celebration,
rather than those of disappointment,
as I drop you off with a backpack and your hopeful smile,
into the rooms and arms of your capable grade school teachers
and alongside your peers and potential new lifelong friends.
One day in the (with hope) not-too-distant future,
this will be a memory,
a small speed bump in the long educational road ahead of you,
and just part of history which other kids will learn about in schools.
You will be again able to play, mask-less and free,
learn closer than six feet apart from
and be "allowed" to hug your friends and loved ones,
and your (our) journey of "normal" learning will continue
and whatever our "new normal" life looks like will go on.
Your energy,
your passion,
your strength,
your persistence,
your hunger for knowledge and truth,
your desire to grow and make things better for others,
and your simple daily joy of just living in the face of such challenges
keeps me going through it all.
In this unprecedented year of "firsts," and one which we will never forget, I sincerely hope you had a wonderful first day at "school," my sweet kindergartner.
I love you always,
Mom
Check out the amazing board that our childcare did with Iver! Their sign rocks!
(One of these days, both of our boys will be in "school")
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