Tears at the School Gate

So my son decides to drop the tear bomb on me today when we arrived at the school gates, just as I was preparing to run through a field screaming 'freeeedom!' with burning torch in hand. He proceeded to clamber up my rib cage as if it were a ladder whilst the teachers tried to prise him off with a crow bar and usher him inside. 


I had never felt more useless and less of a mother, my child needing comfort and cuddles from his one reliable port of call, and all she had the power to do was stand there waving him off with a weak smile. It's one massive pain in the arse, to put it bluntly. Now I will spend the whole day fretting and resisting the urge to go back and peep through the window just to make sure he hasn't spontaneously combusted, and as I rock in the corner with worry he will be happily drawing pictures and affectionately stabbing little girls with compasses, completely forgetting such a traumatic farewell. 

For those who might be interested, here are a few tips on encouraging your child to enjoy school and general preparation;

1; Be positive when sharing your school day stories with them. If you grumble about how you hated your teacher/didn't enjoy maths/lost a tooth when eating one of the dinner ladies infamous rock cakes, your child will associate these negatives with their general outlook on school. You are the google of his/her life, how they see this big scary world is how you choose to portray it to them, the answers you give to questions and curiousities will be absorbed and provide them with a template in which to grow during their early years. Talk about school with envy, tell them how you wish you could go back to that carefree existence.

2; Get them into learning from an early age. As soon as they ask you a question you don't know the answer to, sit together at the computer and search for it together. Tell them everything you know about anything you see on a daily basis, something as simple as an acorn growing into an Oak tree will be a spark in their hearth of knowledge. Buy your child a magazine as a treat, sit with them and help them complete the activities. If you love music show them videos on you tube and tell them about the instruments. Watch animal documentaries together. Open them up to thinking, solving and questioning. When they finally reach school age they will be armed with the tools for enjoying education.

3; Give them a little control. As simple a thing as choosing what shoes they'd like to wear (within reason, not many schools allow Peppa Pig flip flops), let them decide on a bag and lunch box too. If they want a hair cut go get one, if they want to wear ribbons in their pony tails and butterfly clips go for it. When your child understands that going to school means being more grown up, and growing up means having the lee way to make more decisions, he/she will start to come round to the idea.

4; Don't stress out in the mornings. This is one that I have learnt the hard way. After sweetly asking my son to put down his dinosaurs and get dressed I thought I'd leave it at that and go about my morning routine. Obviously my son was so engrossed in helping his dinos in their escape from the meteor he completely ignored my request, and the one after that, and the shouting it several times. So it all went a little worse than pear shaped; there were sulks, stamping feet, throwing toys and screaming about how unfair life was (Louie was pretty pissed off too). We left with just enough time to march at a soldierly pace, my son wanting to analyse every leaf and poke spiders whilst being dragged along by his cruel mother. Now every morning I make sure it all runs a bit smoother. Louie can't have telly on, for instance, until he is dressed. Packed lunch is always prepared the night before and my morning cup of tea is put on hold until I have completed mission school run. 

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My son will frequently attempt to play top trumps with me in regard to going to school. He'll whip out his weak 'It's boring' card and sulkily cross his arms. At this point I will stop what I'm doing, and in slow motion, like a Texan cowboy in a shoot out, The Good the Bad and the Ugly theme playing in my head, I draw my weapon...  Bam!

"Ok, why don't you just stay home with me for the whole day? First we will slowly dissect mount-washing up until our hands become wrinkled prunes, then we shall go into battle with the army of toys scattered around your bedroom. After our victory we will need to remove all that remains of our visit from the dust fairies, hoover up the peas that jumped off your plate last night (escapeas???) and then mummy will need to lie in a dark room with a flannel over her eyes for at least an hour, at which point you will be required to sit very quietly and watch the already-dried paint. This will not be a tidy up scene from Mary Poppins buddy..." 

If this fails I threaten to build a time machine and travel back to Victorian England where he would be sent down the coal mines/up chimneys/to the workhouse/to live with Ebenezer Scrooge.