Seventeen years ago, we moved to a new city. New jobs, new day care, new neighbors – all part of the package.
One of the most vivid memories occurred just a few days after we moved. Our soon to be five-year-old began kindergarten in her new school. We hadn’t seen the school before our move. I had spoken to the school’s administrator and the kindergarten teacher ahead of time, both of whom assured me that our precious baby would be just fine in her new surroundings and that I had nothing to worry about. This child was very shy and often took some time to warm up to a new situation and new people.
So, we show up for school. It’s morning drop-off and the chaos level is high. Phones are ringing, parents are coming and going, distant cries coming from the preschool area can be heard from where we stood waiting to be welcomed to the school. The anxiety in me was rising. No one seemed to notice us and I began to wonder why the Director, who was so reassuring on the phone, was not at our sides. Finally, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and kind eyes appeared.
“Hi. I’m Miss Dee.” We had spoken to this angel of a woman on the phone and I was relieved to meet her face to face. “You must be Danielle,” she spoke right to our daughter and reached for her hand at the same time. “We’re going on a field trip to the apple orchard this morning and you can sit by me the entire time.”
“Field trip?” I exclaimed. No one told me about a field trip. The new school was causing enough stress and now I had to entrust my small child to the bus driver and the new teacher.
Miss Dee held out her hand and without hesitation, my daughter took it and walked away. I stood there a bit shaken and puzzled. Why was letting go so hard?
I’m discovering that with each new milestone, I find myself experiencing varying degrees of angst surrounding the “letting go” process. Sending my daughter off with Miss Dee was infinitely more difficult than moving her into the dorm at the start of freshman year of college. I was so excited for her to have the “college experience” while living on-campus. This was the logical next step in her life and ours. I did not feel the least bit sad as said our last good-byes of the day. She had a sweet roommate, the room was arranged to suit both co-eds, her bed looked cozy and she looked like she belonged. So, letting go that day was a moment we were both ready for. I know that I left her prepared to learn. She had the skills to study, achieve her goals academically, and could create a social life of her choosing.
Of course, the first time they drive off with their shiny new license “letting go” takes on a whole new meaning. Every time the car pulls out of the driveway, I’m slightly on edge until I hear the hum and rumble of the garage door signaling the arrival home. There are so many of these “letting go” opportunities that one would think that by the time they are ready to leave the nest, I would also be ready.
Recently, I was privy to an intelligent debate among parents regarding access to grades once a child hits college. According to the law, parents have no rights. Even if you are paying tens of thousands of dollars each year so your child will get the best education, you may not see his grades, his bill, or anything else accessible only by the private log-in. Your student can give you access to grades and tuition bills if she chooses. Keep in mind, as parents, we are not entitled to it.
The online discussion was fascinating. I agreed with both sides – those for and those against seeing the grades. All the arguments made sense. I came to the realization that not only did I have a lot of “letting go” to do, I had some decisions to make about what kind of parent I was going to be to this novice student of mine living away from home for the first time. Would I hover and demonstrate distrust or would I continue to instill my confidence in him; the very same self-esteem boosting support that got him to this place? What good would it do me or him to see the grades? Would his rate of success be hinged on my knowing every detail in each class? Perhaps. But which side of the equation would I be on. What if my knowing caused him distress which got in the way of his focus? There are so many facets to the conversation. I do feel that if there’s nothing to hide, then why not see the grades. On the other hand, I hope that if there was a real struggle, he would come to me.
I am learning to let go over and over again. For any parent out there who thinks that it’s a one and done, I am living proof that it’s not. We must provide just enough rope at each stage so our children experience independence. It is our job to help them fly solo when they’re ready, even if we’re not.
PS That little go who went off with Miss Dee will be graduating college in a few short months. Not sure I’m ready for that “letting go” moment.