I come in and Nora is not her usual self. She isn’t smiling as brightly as usual, and she seems much calmer. A calm child is nice, but Nora simply isn’t like that, and when I think of her a big smile comes to my face as I can see hers in my mind. Nora is joy.
Friday, 3:30pm.
This week she has been on “Transition”, and she should be going to Toddlers. For a long while I tried to put aside the fact that she would have to move soon, the idea itself would bring tears to my eyes and to know that she won’t be in our classroom anymore made me really sad, but I preferred to avoid thinking about it.
Interestingly enough, as egotistic as I am, I didn’t think of how it will be for her... Somehow I thought she will be happy to get new friends, I guess. But I am not sure about that thought being the right one anymore.
This week she woke up crying and I had to hold her and soothe her for a long while, which isn’t the common considering she always recovers fastly. She would also start crying whenever she will see the director and looks at me and the co-teacher with despair in her eyes. Nora is no more than seventeen months and you can only imagine how unbearable it is to see that.
On Wednesday I went to pick her up at the Toddlers room, I could hear her crying out loud and as much as I forced myself to hold it in, I couldn’t anymore. I went to the hallway and hugged her, reminding her everything is alright and the Toddlers’ classroom teacher said I could take her back as she already spent half-day there and she ought to come back to Infants classroom. I held her up and took her back, it felt like a piece of my soul being put back together. My baby.
Yesterday she went to the Toddlers room crying and I know she is not being mistreated there, mind you that the classroom is right next to ours, and I can listen and see them from time to time; but I understand she must be confused and scared. She may be thinking she had done something wrong for us to do that, she keeps on looking back as if asking to be rescued, as if wondering why nobody is “saving her” and my heart cries out telling her how much I love her, I wish she knew... I wish she understood all this is for her own sake, and as good and as smart as she is now, she has to go to the next level and shine brighter.
At the end of the day, when leaving the school, I found her nearly crying again in the playground, she was just there pouting while the other kids were playing. I looked at her and she seemed to calm down a bit, I told her to play around and gave her a kiss, then I walked to the door and when I looked back she was crying and then again with those beautiful almond eyes of hers asking for help. I told her “I am leaving. Bye, Nora, bye” and waved my hands to her which is my usual way to greet her goodbye for the day, and she held on her tears, tried a smile at me and put her hands up to her lips and then out to me... there she was, throwing me kisses and saying “bye” while I was feeling I was letting her down one more time.
Friday, 8:45am.
Nora seems distant, she is not running around as usual or laughing for the sake of laughing in the morning, she seems nervous, and from time to time, she checks the door apparently scared. I suffer with her, I know what’s happening.
I hug her and kiss her as usual, I get her close to me and say in her little ear “I love you, Nora” as usual, wishing for her heart to listen to mine; that was my own “love enchantment”, in absence of a peace spell. I smile to her and do my best to appear cheerful, trying to get her some ease and she seems to feel more trustful as the hours pass by.
Friday, 10:30am.
The director comes in saying she can take Nora to the Toddlers classroom now, and she will stay there for the whole day today. Nora cries and is taken away one more time.
I want to explain her so much what is going on, I wish she can tell me what she feels and what to do. I feel helpless, and I think she feels hopeless; if her teachers aren’t taking her back, she may be thinking what can she do then? I wish for her to understand that we weren’t given any option regarding this decision and that’s how the center work. I don’t know if extending the Transition to two weeks would be of help, but certainly one hasn’t been enough, at least not for us her teachers, nor for her.
Friday, 3:30pm.
It is my time to leave and I rush to go to Toddlers to say goodbye to Nora, I just want her to know I am right next door and I keep her in my mind, I want her to feel that she is not alone, I wish her to understand she will be fine, she is too little to have to deal with all that.
I ask for permission to the teacher to come in to say hi, she tells me they are about to take a nap but grants her permission the same, I thank her and enter. Nora is in the mat in front of the right corner of the room already, she is lying down but with open eyes, she seems so absent and far. I kiss her and tell her “goodnight, Nora”, she won’t even truly look at me, she barely moved her eyes and I feel so guilty. Have I shattered her soul? The school system has shattered mine.
I leave the classroom quickly, apologize to the teachers and thank them. They must be thinking about my separation anxiety and hers, as I think about it as well. I can’t help but feel the pain that comes with having to let her grow up by herself. But please don’t get me wrong, I am proud of her achievements and I know she will overcome all this at the end, but here and now, it hurts.
Sunday, 9:23pm.
I am thinking about tomorrow I will be going to work and Nora won’t be in our classroom anymore, she might be crying once more... but as wishful as it can be, I hope to walk towards the Infants classroom, and while passing by the Toddlers one, see her laughing one more time, I expect to see her smiling. After all, as I said earlier, Nora is joy. And sunlight. And love.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Please don’t take my sunshine away...”
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