School Blues

Tomorrow begins the fifth week of school for Sunshine. She has been doing well. In fact, a couple of weeks ago, I began drafting a post about how her teacher was sensitive to her anxiety. It was going so well. When Sunshine forgot her “getting to know me” project after Saint Daddy spent a night in the hospital and we rushed around to get everything together in the morning, I expected her to spend our entire drive home from school hysterically yelling at me, something she does when she feels anxious. She did not. Her teacher said that it was okay and that other kids also forgot theirs. However she had handled the situation with Sunshine was the right way. A week later, her teacher emailed Saint Daddy and me to tell us that Sunshine seemed anxious about time limits because she wanted to be perfect and time limits sometimes prevented perfection. She said she talked to Sunshine about it. I told her about Sunshine’s anxiety diagnosis and thanked her for taking such good care of our girl.

Tomorrow begins the fifth week of school for Sunshine, and I wrote down the supply list for first grade at another school today.

Sunshine will be starting the sixth week of school somewhere else with a new teacher and new friends and new school supplies.

The last week moved quickly in a whirlwind of what should we do and how should we proceed and what if we are making a mistake. It is hard to believe that it all happened in a week. For some, our reasons might not be enough. For us, they are everything.

Sunshine is happy enough at school. We are happy enough with her school. Yet…

Last Monday, Sunshine came home from school with a nearly full lunch box. She takes the bus to and from school on Mondays at her own request. She is gone from 7:30 am to nearly 5:30 pm on Mondays. Her official drop off time, according to the bus company and the school, is 4:41 pm. She has never been home that early. In that amount of time, nearly ten hours, Sunshine ate one cheese stick and two graham crackers. She returned home with pita chips, hummus, blackberries, crackers, a bite-sized Kit-Kat, and a pre-packaged rice crispy treat in her school bag. We send more than enough food so she will never go hungry. We questioned her about this. She said she was not allowed to eat her rice crispy treat because it was too sugary. No alternative was provided. No note came home. She said they were late getting to lunch, a scheduled twenty minute daily activity that takes place in another building. She said that she only had time to eat her cheese stick. My six year old consumed one cheese stick and two graham crackers all day. We received no adult communication. We received a hungry child.

Hungry kids are not learning kids.

We had an issue last year with lunch. We learned that the kids were being made to stand quietly in the hall until they were all silent before they would move on to lunch. We cried out against these group punishments that prevented Sunshine from eating a balanced meal. The teacher swore it was not what Sunshine claimed. It happened again and again.

We had enough.

We know nothing about what Sunshine is doing at school. We know that group punishments are regular occurrences. We know that naughty kids can lose recess and other privileges for their whole class. We know that Sunshine is not a naughty kid. At least we assume so because no communication comes home to the contrary.

Sunshine’s headphones broke at school. Sunshine said she needed new ones. I said, “Is there a note from your teacher?” No, but I need them by Monday because we use them every day.

The hunger, though, that was the final straw. The nail that wrecked that camel’s coffin.

We had enough.

Saint Daddy looked into rentals to move into so we could send Sunshine to another school district. He found one and even sent a message to a realtor.

We contacted a charter school that we had considered when Sunshine was four years old. Saint Daddy wanted to know if they had space for a first grader. They did.

We applied immediately. We toured the school. We provided notarized copies of paperwork. Saint Daddy called the bus company about changing Sunshine’s pick up and drop off routines.

This has not been an easy week for me. I was confronted by an unknown that I could not tackle easily.

At Sunshine’s therapy on Tuesday, her therapist questioned why we decided to move her. And I said, “my heart tells me she’s not in the right place.”

And that was it. My heart said that Sunshine needed more that what we were giving her. I could feel it deeply. Sunshine’s school is not right for her or for our family. I could feel it every time something came home with her name spelled incorrectly on it. Her name is not Sunshyne. It is a common name with a common spelling, and not caring enough to know it shouts lack of care clearly and effectively.

My best friend asked if I had considered the impact that Sunshine’s school had on her mental health. She said that she knew that Sunshine was always a little worried but that school seemed to exasperate it. That something about her school kicked her anxiety into overdrive. As her year progressed, her struggles became more pronounced.

Had I considered?

I knew. Sunshine’s school boasts a long school day and a long school year. Those things are lovely on paper, but by the time she returns home after a long day at school, she has time to eat dinner, take a bath, and go to bed. If there is homework, her time is even more stretched.

She is six.

It is too much.

I knew all of that. I knew it in my heart and I tried not to focus on it because I was not sure of the alternatives.

I fretted. I lost sleep. I felt agitated and overwhelmed.

Even when Sunshine was accepted to the new school, I worried. She would go, but honestly, I had never been to the school. Could I put my six year old on a bus to a place I had never seen? What kind of mother would do that? I was not that mother.

What if I was making the wrong call? What if her new school was more wrong for her than her current school? What if I do this and she hates it? What if she does not want to go? She already has anxiety. What if I set her off by forcing her to do something she would never want, could never want? Her best friend in the whole world is at her current school, and while they are no longer in the same class, they see each other in the hall. How would she feel if I took that away from her?

So I asked. “How would you feel if Daddy and I put you in a different school?”

She did not hesitate. That sounds fun!

I was astounded. I expected more trepidation.

Her excitement over the prospect did much to assuage my fears. If Sunshine felt ready, maybe it really was right.

We did tour the school. They have a butterfly garden and sensory pathway; an outdoor classroom and grandparent luncheons. Their programs are on point. Sunshine will participate in a pageant at the end of this year. They offer piano and drama lessons after school for a small fee. And Sunshine was thrilled to learn that there are not any uniforms. I was thrilled to learn that she would be home from school earlier than she is now, even by taking the bus. Lunch and recess are also longer, despite the shorter school day.

There are still so many questions for which I do not have any answers. I spent this week with my mind racing, hoping that I would somehow find the right answers to know that we were making the choice that would save Sunshine.

There is no way to know.

For now, we move forward.

Sunshine has one week left at her current school. Her new school would have taken her tomorrow, but we decided to give her a week to ease into it. Plus, Saint Daddy will take her to Back to School Night to meet her new teacher this week. An event that Sunshine’s current teacher did not notify us about at her current school, besides when Sunshine mentioned we were supposed to be at the school at 6:00 that day.

How can a mother know that she is making the right decision for her children? Is there a way to feel fully safe that you chose correctly?

I suppose there is not. When anxiety is at play, that brings hours of struggle, hours of worry, over sometimes the simplest decisions.

Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I am right. Whatever it is, Sunshine is at the foreground of my thoughts, and that, I feel, is the best that I can do for her.

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