Hurrah! School is in. And the best-kept secret about back to school is that hidden under the drama, tears, sentimentality and nostalgia of the first day is that many mums are thrilled. And I’ll tell you my secret: I’m excited too.
This year, my first born, my teeny baby is starting “big school” at the epic age of four. She’s a pro at structured education, already having attended preschool here in the UK. But nonetheless, this is now proper school, making her into a legitimate pupil and turning me into a supposedly responsible and serious parent of a schoolchild. Yikes.
Of course I’ll miss her. Of course I’ll be worried for her. She’ll be in a new place, with new teachers and new friends, and she’ll be engaged in learning, play and the important business of growing up for years to come, God willing. For myself, I am by turns in abject disbelief that my daughter has grown up, excited for this new stage in her life, and overwhelmed with love when I see her in her big school uniform.
This gloopy sentimentality is the emotion prescribed for parents on the first day back to school. The modern parent rule book tells us that we must kowtow to these, our little shining angels who must be the centre of our lives. We are told to accept, nay embrace, the fact that they will erase any sense of individuality or self that we might feel, and that we must never posit that we are, you know, actual people, with actual lives and existences of our own independent of our children.
Thank goodness the holidays have ended. I know we’re supposed to delight in the lengthy spell of togetherness with our offspring. Our long summer holidays should be filled with dappled sunlight as the children frolic in fields, learn arts and crafts, and enjoy family time clearing out the garage while singing upbeat songs.
As school begins, we’re supposedly mourning the loss of night times around a campfire, gazing at the stars while telling ghoulish tales to an audience of children at once terrified and amused.
Wrong. Holidays meant a lot of laundry and cooking and no downtime. Days where it rained so much we stayed indoors, and others where it was too hot to go out, too stuffy to stay in. There was crying and tantrums – and that was just me.
We all knew Back To School was coming, but the preparations caught me off guard. In the UK, it’s big business, worth £1.45 billion (Dh8.1bn). Of this, 60 per cent is spent on school uniforms. I remember the lightheaded sensation and palpitations I felt after purchasing the full set earlier this week. I had to call my bank manager for a small mortgage.
I arranged play dates with mothers and children I don’t know, to give my child some familiar faces on her first day. And I still have to procure the personalised colouring pencils the school demands and which are apparently a matter of life and death.
I am sure there are many parents – most likely mothers – who only just got through the stress of the first morning back at school by looking forward to coming back to a quiet, empty house with no need to provide entertainment, food or conversation.
I’ll miss my daughter’s beautiful face and cheeky smile – and the hugs on demand. But I’ll also cherish those few minutes of quiet.
Shelina Zahra Janmohamed is the author of Love in a Headscarf and blogs at www.spirit21.co.uk
