This morning, I placed my five-year-old son, Ethan, on the school bus for his third day of kindergarten. As it drove away, I felt a lump in my throat; a piece of my heart was on that bus, leaving with him. Ethan turned five on December 14, 2012, the same day twenty children boarded a bus for school, never to return. As we send our little ones off to school this fall, my thoughts are heavy with the memory of Newtown.
I can’t help but think of those families who left a part of their hearts on a bus that never came back. My heart aches for the many families who now carry an unbearable emptiness. While my primary focus is on Ethan, I can’t shake the thought of the void left in a world that feels a little less vibrant without those lost children.
On his second day of kindergarten, Ethan excitedly told me how amazing his day was, all thanks to gym class. However, he also mentioned practicing something called a lockdown drill. They locked the classroom doors, switched off the lights, and practiced hiding under desks. He assured me that if a bad stranger came to school, his teacher would protect him. At that moment, my heart sank a little more.
This is the new reality of kindergarten in 2013: gym class and lockdown drills. I am proud of Ethan’s school for addressing such a complex issue in a manner appropriate for young minds. Yet, I struggle with the fact that our children now need to learn these safety protocols as part of their educational experience. The thoughts of Ethan and Newtown intertwine in my mind, leaving me feeling disheartened.
When Ethan asked if a bad stranger would come for him, I looked him in the eyes and assured him, “Your school is safe. All the doors are locked.” His innocent face then questioned, “But what if the bad stranger breaks down the doors?” I lied again, reassuring him that wouldn’t happen, even though deep down, I knew the truth. Sometimes, in moments like these, we choose to shield our children from harsh realities.
Reflecting on my own kindergarten experience, I remember a classroom filled with play and laughter, a stark contrast to what today’s children face. They are aware of so much at such a young age, including fears I wish they could remain oblivious to. Even now at 35, I yearn to believe in a world free of threats. I wish I could simply pull down the shades, lock the doors, and hide under the furniture with my children, if only to believe I could keep them safe.
As this fall unfolds, I must let Ethan go, understanding that my love for him is immense, yet it cannot shield him from the unpredictability of the world. I glance up to see his bus rounding the corner, his smiling face coming into view. For today, at least, that piece of my heart is back, whole and safe for a little while longer.
For more insights into preparing for parenthood, you can visit this resource which provides valuable information about home insemination kits. Additionally, check out this excellent resource for further information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, the experience of sending a child to kindergarten in today’s world is fraught with mixed emotions. As parents, we must navigate the balance of fostering a sense of safety while acknowledging the realities of our time.
Leave a Reply