The First Day of School

It was one of those dreams that keeps you in bed longer; the small, child-size tables and chairs arranged strategically throughout the classroom and each chair had a child seated with a group of other kindergarten students as they explored and read books at their identified reading level.

A long-time colleague and friend, our kindergarten teacher, was seated at a kidney table-you know the kind-it has a cut out so the teacher can easily reach over to assist students with materials and books. She smiled as the students followed her cues and when the pace began to fall off in a way she hadn’t expected, she began to tighten the line of her smile a bit and the students instantly understood-focus now.

I left her there to assist a precocious, curly-haired boy whose big personality matched his big smile. He had a great smile, the kind that filled up the bottom half of his face with a twinkle in his eye that told you he could absolutely engage in naughty disruptive behavior-not because he was unkind or mean, but just for the entertainment of it all. After all, he was now approaching six and a half years old and could read all of the first grade books already even thought he’d been in his Kindergarten year of school.

He reached out his hand and clasped mine. He knew I’d needed to make my way to a table where some very inexperienced readers were struggling with their materials at a table near his-he’d calculated the move, I could see that. I took his hand not letting on that I thought it was the sweetest thing I’d experienced all day keeping my facial expressions all business as I crouched down at the table to assist other readers all-the-while keeping my arm outstretched to the little boy, now holding an end-of-first grade chapter book and reading as if he’d been reading for three years rather than one.

I glanced up briefly to see a long-time colleague and friend had entered the room. She was smiling and cooing at the kids telling them how great it was they liked first grade. “You’ll be here next year, you guys. Your doing soooo great!”. Her smile lit up her face as she moved through the narrow isles patting a child gently on the shoulder in acknowledgement and support. She’d been our Special Education teacher for years and was fierce when it came to advocating for a child’s education. I was so proud of the kids when she’d given her approval.

The light streaming through the window caught my attention as my thought tried to cut through the fog of sleep. I picked up my phone squinting without my glasses at the tiny numbers. Was it past 6:30 am? Oh no! Wait! What day is this? Thursday? Was it the first day of school? No, not quite. It was Thursday and I needed to be at school by 8am to meet virtually with my colleagues in preparation for the first day of virtual school.

My heart sank as I placed the phone back on the side table a little harder than I should have. I moved back into sleep position and closed my eyes but they were all gone; my future students faces could no longer be seen, my colleagues were no longer nearby, and the little boy reaching for my hand and reading a very advanced book was no longer there.

It was time. I couldn’t make the dream happen again and felt the heartbreak for what we would miss this year-all of us. The students wouldn’t sit at the small tables, the teachers wouldn’t sit at cut outs in desks. The teachers would not walk through the narrow isles in a classroom reassuring kids with a gentle tap on the shoulder. Children will not be seated facing one another and sharing books while they read aloud. And hand-holding? That was a no-even for twinkly-eyed little kids who thought the best entertainment was pushing the boundary-just a little.

I believe it must be done for their safety and ours-at least for now but I’m hurting for the best part of school-the first days when kids and teachers become a we and and us.

I’ll log in this morning.