This morning, I waved goodbye to my five-year-old son, Ethan, as he boarded the bus for his third day of kindergarten. Watching that bus pull away, with his beaming smile still in view, I felt a lump in my throat. A part of my heart went with him—and it was driving away.
Ethan just turned five on December 14, 2012, the very same day when twenty innocent children boarded a bus, heading to school, and never returned home. As we send our little ones off to school this fall, the events in Newtown weigh heavily on my mind.
I can’t help but think of the eager faces and families who have left a piece of their hearts on a bus that never came back. The reality is that many families are left with deep scars. While I’m focused on my own child, I can’t ignore the emptiness that lingers in a world dimmed by loss.
On the second day of kindergarten, Ethan excitedly told me how awesome his day was, primarily because of gym class. A classic response from a spirited five-year-old! But then he shared that they practiced something called a lockdown drill. They locked the classroom doors, turned off the lights, pulled down the shades, and learned to hide by putting their chairs on top of their desks and crawling underneath. He assured me that if a bad person came to his school, his teacher would protect him, and he would follow the drill. A little piece of my heart broke at that moment.
In 2013, this is what kindergarten entails: gym class and lockdown drills. I take pride in Ethan’s school for how they navigated such a serious topic with young children. Yet, it’s hard to fathom that this is a fundamental lesson for our kids today. The innocence I remember from my kindergarten days—where I learned the pledge of allegiance amidst a giant playhouse—seems like a distant memory. The world has changed and our children must adapt to new realities.
Today’s kids seem to be aware of so much at such tender ages, including things I wish they could remain oblivious to. Even at 35, I want to believe there are no bad people lurking about. I wish I could just turn off the lights, close the curtains, lock the doors, and hide with my children, pretending for just a moment that I could keep them safe. However, a small ray of reality always seeps through, reminding me that life offers no guarantees.
So this fall, I must let him go, understanding that my love for him runs deep, yet my ability to control what happens next is very limited. As I watch Ethan’s bus round the corner, I catch a glimpse of his joyful face. For today, at least, that piece of my heart feels whole and safe.
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In summary, the landscape of kindergarten has shifted dramatically, forcing parents and children alike to adapt to a new normal that includes both educational and safety measures that were once unimaginable. As we embrace this journey, we must find a balance between nurturing innocence and preparing our children for the realities of the world.
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