School Days

Seeing all the posts lately about kids going back to school reminds me of when I had to go to kindergarten for the first time. Up until that day, my life was pretty good. I had a few friends, but mostly I got to hang out with my mom and watch TV and play with my toys. Life seemed pretty sweet.
Then one day my mom walked me up the block and tried to hand me off to some strangers. I was having none of that. I grabbed onto a sign or a telephone pole and clung for dear life. I cried and screamed, and eventually had to be dragged into the school, kicking and flailing away.
It was all downhill from there.
That’s when my stomach aches started. That’s when I first noticed stress and anxiety. That’s when my OCD first started to manifest. The other kids picked up on it all too, so kindergarten is where I started getting bullied and picked on and made to feel like I didn’t belong. It only got worse, because once you become that person, it’s hard to change that perception, in others or yourself.
School was never fun for me, and everyone who knows me knows all the horror stories of what I had to deal with until I finally dropped out of high school. I try not to use any of it as an excuse or a crutch, but I would be lying if I said it all didn’t leave some kind of mark on me. Every thought and decision and action is still somewhat dictated on how I felt in my school years. There are times when I still feel like I did when I was a kid in class, terrified that I was about to get picked on or brutalized. On rare occasions, I still feel panic attacks coming on in simple situations like going to the store or standing in line at the bank.
This is not to make any of you who have kids starting kindergarten nervous or frightened, most kids are pretty well adjusted these days. They have already been exposed to daycare and preschool and such. Kids today have a lot more access to activities and people and the world than some of us did back in the day.
Maybe take a little extra time though to ask how your kids are doing, and listen to what they tell you. I didn’t want to burden my parents with what was happening, because I was embarrassed and felt like a failure. It didn’t matter that I knew that my parents loved me, they were supposed to love me. As far as I knew, the other kids were being honest and telling me like it really was, that I was ugly and stupid and should go kill myself. When you’re five years old, you really can’t make those determinations for yourself.
So do your kids a favor, and make sure that they know that they are good and smart. Make sure they know you are there for them, and will protect them. Make sure that they understand that some kids are just horrible, like some adults, probably through no fault of their own, but because they are being raised in horrific conditions. When I got older, I saw that many of my bullies had alcoholic and abusive parents, and it trickled down to them, and then to me.
Be an active part of your child’s life. They will thank you for it later, trust me.