A few weeks ago, I chatted with 2 of my cousins whose young children had just started their school life. Memories unspooled of my own school beginnings, and I typed this immediately. Yesterday, a cousin from the UK shared details about the education system and the curriculum, which were quite illuminating. His daughter has graduated from Kindergarten and is now in primary school. Another write-up on that is sure to follow this.
Tiny Shoes, Big Steps: School Beginnings and Brave Goodbyes
It’s back-to-school season, and for many little ones, it’s the very first step into the world beyond their homes. Across the country, tiny shoes are being polished, new uniforms worn with pride, and water bottles and snack boxes packed with love. For many fledglings, it’s their first brush with the outside world. The start of school life is both tender and transformative, leaving behind the familiarity of home and stepping into a room full of strangers, while slowly discovering a new rhythm of the day.
Think about it. For these young children, everything is new. The faces of classmates, the teacher, the school attendant, and even the bus driver. They are asked to do big things: make friends, manage without their parents, follow routines, share toys and indulgence from elders. So many new tasks. So many emotions. So many adventures, just beginning.
Two of my nieces joined kindergarten this year. One of them in Kochi, Kerala, has her older sister studying in the same school. The other is a single child living in Bangalore, Karnataka. Both begin a significant chapter, both stepping into school life with vastly different reactions.
Teju, the Kochi Kutty, had her first day meticulously documented. She posed gleefully for photos, legs tilted, index finger resting on her chin, her lengthy tresses folded into two tidy pigtails. Dressed in a red checkered pinafore, she waved goodbye, then hesitantly stepped into her classroom, eyes constantly darting back to her mother, who stood behind the group of parents, anxious yet hopeful.
Chikku, the Bangalore Baby, on the other hand, didn’t pause for pictures. Clad in a bright CSK-yellow T-shirt and blue pants, her sparse hair tied up into spirited tufts, she confidently let go of her mother’s hand, clasped the attendant’s, and bounced up the school steps, eyes sparkling and grin wide. One quick wave and off she went.
Teju’s school journey started with a few hiccups, leaving her favourite umbrella behind on Day 1 and coming home in someone else’s (smaller!) shoes on Day 2. Each morning still comes with reluctance and negotiation.
Chikku, who already knew most rhymes and stories before starting school, is utterly fascinated by her new environment. She’s enthralled by the sights and sounds of her classroom. Chikku insists on going to school even on Sundays and bursts into tears when it’s time to leave school.
Then there’s another little story from a school run by a friend of mine. She noticed one of her new students crying in class and gently took him outside to the garden, hoping to calm him. She pointed at the teensy-weensy fruits scattered under the trees and suggested they collect them for the birds. “The birds will eat them and say thank you,” she said.
Little Luttu Singh, his long hair tied back in a single ponytail, looked at her, hands on his hips, and replied with piercing logic, “Birds don’t know how to talk. If they can’t speak, how will they say thank you?” Without missing a beat, he added, “You have two phones. Call my mom now and tell her to come pick me up.” In his mind, the school didn’t stand a chance; he was clearly smarter than everyone there!
Hearing these stories stirred up memories of my own first days at school, tales my mother has lovingly repeated so often that I can play them like a movie in my head and vividly picture my younger self. I was a pampered only child and a terribly fussy eater. My poor amma would spend over an hour coaxing me to finish a single idli or biscuit with milk. She would dress me in my pristine white uniform shirt and skirt and braid my hair. She then walked me to school. But the moment the school bell rang, like clockwork, I would promptly project that solitary idly or biscuit back onto my uniform. Amma, always prepared, would rush in, scoop me up to the washroom, clean me up, change my clothes, powder me, tuck a fresh biscuit in my palm, and send me back in. Meanwhile, the ever-gracious attendant would mop up the mess.
This wasn’t a one-time drama. I repeated this routine not for one day, not ten, but for an entire month. Every single year, until I grew comfortable with my new teacher and classmates. In fact, this pattern continued until I reached Class 3!
These moments, however messy or tearful, are such precious markers of growing up. Each child handles school beginnings in their own beautiful way, some with tears, some with twinkling eyes, some with logic sharp enough to question bird conversations!
So, here’s to new beginnings. To the juniors taking their first brave steps into school life. To the parents, sending them off with kisses and silent prayers. And to the teachers, caretakers, and staff who welcome these young souls with warmth and open arms.
Wishing everyone, students, parents, and educators, a joyful and fulfilling school year ahead!
Picture Courtesy: Unsplash- Note Thanum.
