The Times They Are A-Changin’

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As spring approaches and the weather begins to change, we realize that the routine of our school year is also changing. Although the transition to summer is always exciting, it can be met with anxiety. The start of summer also means the end of the school year; goodbyes to teachers, friends, and sometimes even schools.

If you are like me, changes are difficult. I enjoy the routine of my everyday life, and although mundane at times, it feels predictable. When I know a change is on the horizon, I often feel more on edge. As a social worker, I know this and make conscious efforts to care for myself a little bit more during these times. More walks outside, more at-home yoga classes, more deep breaths. 

Last spring, my middle daughter graduated from preschool. My middle daughter is my free spirit. She is rough and tough yet empathetic and affectionate. She loves sports but would also trade in a jersey for a dress and accessories to match. She doesn’t usually discuss her feelings but is open if she has something on her mind. 
 
So, when her preschool graduation was looming, we talked about it; what a day in kindergarten might look like, how she’d be there with her older sister, and what she might learn. Although she didn’t talk much about kindergarten, I would hear it in her play or overhear her talking to her friends about how she was leaving preschool. I wasn’t sure if all of my chatter about her graduating was more for me or her, but it felt essential at the time, as this was going to be a big change, and I wanted to make sure my little girl was ready. 
 
One night, about two hours after I put her to bed, I heard screaming coming from her bedroom. This yell was unlike anything I had heard from her before. I went into her room to see her crying, eyes open but looking through me. I sat beside her, hugged her, and held her for a few minutes until she stopped crying and fell asleep on me.
 
The next morning I asked her if she had had a bad dream the night before. She shrugged her shoulders, shook her head no, and returned to playing. And then it dawned on me. She didn’t remember because she wasn’t awake; she had had a night terror.
 
For those of you that don’t know, according to Kidshealth.org, “Night terrors are caused by over-arousal of the central nervous system (CNS) during sleep. A night terror is not technically a dream but more like a sudden reaction of fear during the transition from one sleep stage to another. Night terrors usually happen about two or three hours after a child falls asleep when sleep moves from the deepest stage of non-REM sleep to lighter REM sleep. Usually, this transition is a smooth one. But sometimes, a child becomes upset and frightened — and that fear reaction is a night terror.”
 
After three nights like that first one, I stopped talking about kindergarten and graduation, realizing that this might have triggered my daughter. The nightly terrors left as quickly as they began, and my girl graduated from preschool a few days later. I shed a few tears, we hugged her teachers, thanked them, and she began camp a few days later. 
 
Although discussing her graduation and move to kindergarten felt critical for me, I realized that it wasn’t for her. Nothing would fully prepare her for a new school other than going to her new one. She was headed to day camp, and in her eyes, kindergarten felt like a lifetime away.

This short but crucial chain of events was important for me to experience as a mom and a social worker. It was a reminder that even though these discussions about leaving all she knew behind in preschool didn’t seem to bother her, subconsciously, she was bottling up all of these emotions, and they were affecting her. It reminded me that what I needed in those days leading up to her graduation was not what she needed.   

Now here we are, only weeks away from my fifth grade daughter’s upcoming graduation from elementary school. We went last week to get her a graduation dress. As she tried outfits in the dressing room, she poked her head out and divulged, “I am definitely going to cry in this dress.” I responded with a hug and thought about how alike we truly are.
 
I didn’t push the conversation or elaborate on what it meant to attend middle school. This time around, I will take my cues from my oldest. If she wants to talk about it, we will; if the day comes and goes with no discussions, that’s ok too. Each of our children are different and requires different responses. Learning to read our children and navigate through these transitions on their terms is the best we can do. 

So I’ll help my daughters pack up their backpacks, say goodbye to their teachers, take a few pictures (ok, who am I kidding, take lots of pictures!), and move on to the next transition.