When Leia was a baby we affectionately called her Koala Bear, for the way she held tightly around my neck and never let go. Now, at 4 ½, when she clasps herself around my legs to block my exit from the classroom, she’s simply Barnacle. A mixture of sadness, guilt, and irritation bubbles up in me as the teacher gives the “last call” to parents, and I try to inch my way out of the classroom, which is not easy with a tearful 35-pound child hanging off me. When I volunteer for lunch duty or a crafts project, the parting scene is much the same, and Mondays are the worst, since she’s had the whole weekend to get used to me being around. I know it’s going to be a bad day if, at breakfast, she starts in with her mournful tune: “I don’t want to go to school, I want to stay with you all day long, Mommy.”

This has all caught me off guard–first of all because things were going so well for a while.  My older daughter, Night Owl, has never had a problem separating. In fact, there have been times when I’ve almost wished she would shed a tear or two, or at least glance backward as she disappeared into her classroom. The transition to her new school was smooth as can be, and when we recently asked if she had been nervous she said “No…my new school feels like home, but it’s not home.”

But of course, Leia is a different creature than her sister. She has always been brimming over with emotion and sensitivity. The fact that she wears her heart on her sleeve also means I get more hugs and communication out of her. And let’s face it– it’s nice to have a little fan club. <!--more-->

But what to do about those painful scenes that tear her–and me– apart on a daily basis? Even though I know this is a normal part of many children's adjustments, I want to be know she’s having a good day at school, that she’s not traumatized. Her assistant teacher has helped me work through this bumpy patch, reassuring me that Leia is fine within seconds after I leave. A mom herself, she's adept at scooping up the weepy ones (and there are always a couple) and distracting them with some fun project or special task. I'm grateful for her ability to be at once affectionate and efficient in easing the separation. And sure enough, it's always a happy Leia who greets me at the end of the day, bubbling with news, the morning's dramatics blissfully forgotten.

I'm grateful, too, for a community of friends who can offer their advice, since many have gone through the same thing. I'm reminded to be sympathetic but firm during good-bye time, not betraying any of my own sadness (it's contagious). Little notes in the lunchbox or something special from home are nice reminders that I'm thinking of her during the day. Promises of a small after-school treat (ice cream, or even just our dog coming to pick her up) can be incentive to hold it together.

Some of these moms have themselves had to back off from volunteering in the classroom, since an appearance is too disruptive and confusing for a child who is trying to get through a separation process. One of the best things about Leia's school, PS 29, is  the helpful parent community and a virtual open-door policy in pre-K. Occasionally that can be counterproductive,  as when I'm trying to do my classroom job and my daughter is anxiously trying to divert me, because she knows my minutes there are numbered.

Another friend mused the other day that she could see all these long days getting to her 4-year-old, and that she's not opposed to keeping her home now and then to recharge. School can get pretty exhausting; perhaps an occasional mental health day is not such a bad thing.

I'd like to hear from other pre-K or kindergarten parents about how your child's transition to school is going. If you have gone through separation issues, what advice can you offer?