Contemplative Photography & Reflections

First Day of School

Today was the first day of school with my new crop of (mostly male) kindergartners. By the end of the day, my voice was shot, but I felt mighty tall – something I only experience in my classroom! And so a new year begins.

This year, I’m working with several families I’ve worked with before, and it was heartwarming during our “Meet the Teacher” open house yesterday to hear older siblings up to sixth grade who are former students of mine sit down at the art table and reminisce about kindergarten. They remembered the most surprising things. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall last night listening to them prepare their little brothers and sisters for their first day of kindergarten.

As for me, I reread a couple poems I wrote when my youngest child started kindergarten, to remind myself that – despite all the ways in which early childhood education has changed since then – sending a child to kindergarten is still a big deal for parents. The first poem, “Five,” was written a few months before my son (who is now learning to drive) started kindergarten and originally was published in the March/April 2004 issue of Mothering magazine.

Five

Sacred season of frog pond,
humming and mommy time
appreciates dandelions three-fold
with fistfuls of I-love-you bouquets,
proud salads of tender, hand-picked greens
(despite their bitterness),
and seed fairies blown into the wind.
He digs, snuggles, makes books
(humming all the while),
relentlessly searches for lilacs
to grace the kitchen table.

Budding scientist employs sticks, nets,
stones and containers as tools
of observation and exploration;
young monk sits straight, cultivating
meditative awareness of an anthill.
He plants peach pits,
stops to smell flowers,
cares for salamanders, frogs and insects
yet is fearful of bullfrogs and snakes
(who have no place in this pond).

Five dwells in the realm
of imagination and possibility,
bonds with the living, breathing world.
He creates fairy houses,
constructs the perfect train track,
names the pair of robins who
frequent our yard,
always enjoys a campfire.

Five is precious like a late autumn day
sunny and warm with clear blue sky
when a new season beckons.
Though winter silences the voices
of crickets, birds and frogs,
I beg Six
and school teachers
to spare the sweet songs
he hums throughout the day.

He says, “But I’ll always
be like I am, when I’m six and seven
and eight and nine and ten…
and twenty-eight and—what comes
after twenty-eight?”
Gratefully, I smile
as Five continues counting.

© Susan Meyer 2003

collage

The next poem was written during his first week of school…when I wasn’t in a punctuating mood.

First Day of School

bit of scarlet in the treetops
bit of silver glistening in my hair
bit of chill in the morning breeze
as a season draws to an end

summer was sprinkled with showers
of anticipatory grief
crying at the drop of a hat
at the thought of him going
to kindergarten

the first day of school
we walked together to his classroom
bypassing the dreaded school bus goodbye
that left a trail of mothers’ tears
all along our road

I handed him off to a woman
with a beautiful smile
who remembered his name
all I needed was the bridge formed
by looking into her eyes
and beseeching her, without words
to please take good care
of this precious boy
who already felt at home

tearlessly I walked away
returned to a quiet house
and cleaned the morning dishes
no small shadows
following me around
asking how to spell words
or begging to go to the library
feeling as if I were missing
an appendage

he bounced off the bus
jubilant about his day
eager to ride the bus in the morning
and sure enough
he was dressed and ready
first thing in the morning
so as not to miss it
he is well attached and ready

along the sidewalk, mothers
wearing tee-shirts and ponytails
push strollers,
nourish hearts, souls, and bodies
without wristwatches

some look tired, expressions
of marathon days, diaper changes,
tantrums, lack of privacy and solitude,
moments of sheer exhaustion
when a poorly timed spill triggers
a full-fledged breakdown

some look serene, expressions
of the perfectly timed kiss
that replenishes and brings you back;
innocent, kind words; new milestones;
gracious belly laughs

how many times have grandmothers
and mothers of older children
babbled to me with that knowing look
about how quickly time passes?
now I have arrived at the other side
of this first crossing
I am one of them

now there is time
to begin where I left off
time to launch a career,
make phone calls and appointments,
think uninterrupted thoughts,
sit down to meditate,
entertain new possibilities

bit of scarlet in the treetops
bit of silver glistening in my hair
bit of chill in the morning breeze
yesterday’s eternal season
has drawn to an end
like a flash of lightning
in the summer sky

© Susan Meyer 2003

Cianan_kindergarten

© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (river-bliss.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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