Dear Lexi: A Note Before You Start Kindergarten

Dear Lexi:

In just six short days, you start kindergarten. It feels like I have been counting down to this moment since you were born: “Can you believe in three years she’ll go to school?” “Next year at this time she’ll be in school.” “Only two more months until school.” But now, in time that’s felt less like a marathon and more like a sprint, we’re buying markers and pencils, a Princess backpack, plaid jumpers and colored folders.

As with every other step along this parenting journey, friends, family, even complete strangers have offered opinions on how I’ll feel next week. I haven’t a clue how I'll feel, but I do know that when the door closes and I get that last glimpse of you for seven or eight hours, you’ll crowd my thoughts: what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, if you’re okay, if you’re eating your lunch and using your manners, if you're listening, if you miss me and your mom, if you're making friends, if you're happy or scared. Just thinking about it brings me to tears. I had six years to prepare for this moment and now with six days to go I realize you may be ready, but I'm not!

I am sitting here typing through tear filled eyes because I know where this road ends. A parent’s job is to raise children that make the world a better place, to be humans that we wish we could be more like, to fulfill their potential and exhaust their dreams. I will be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where your passions may lead and I will always be here when you need to come home. My heart will ache, it may even break, bursting with pride and love for you. Be patient with me.

We begin a new chapter. Your first day of kindergarten will be one of the hardest mornings of my life but you will never know this. I will not cry in front of you and I promise to keep my collapsing in a pool of snot and tears out of your line of sight.

Being a parent has been interesting, frightening, rewarding, and frustrating, sometimes all at once. I have not been shy to admit that from your very first breath in this world I was completely under your spell! You have been my princess. Some have told me that I'm spoiling you or that you're "privileged." I don't know anything about that. All I know is that people told me becoming a father would change my life forever and they were right! In fact they undersold it! You're my princess! I can count on one hand the things I've done right in my life and you're at the top of the list! I was a terrible athlete, and probably a worse student! I was an average teacher and I'm still trying to figure this principal thing out, but I really love being your dad!

It's why I don't mind wearing a princess crown or dancing in the living room! It's why I marvel at your gymnastics feats, am stunned you can remember the words to EVERY song you've EVER heard! And why I'll chase you up and down the street in dress shoes or flips flops to watch you ride you bike! I'm proud to be YOUR dad!

So I don't know if you're spoiled or what people mean by that, but, yes, your mother and I have tried our best to give you every advantage we could. Has the advantage worked? We have no way of knowing. But like so many parents of our generation, we tried to give you those “must-haves” the experts insisted on: Lots of books: Check. Minimal TV: Check. Early preschool: Check. [Mostly] Healthy meals: Check. Lots of activities: Check. Experiences and Inquiry based learning: Check. Exposure to the Arts: Check. Your whole life, you've had options and choices, a fortunate distinction from most of the rest of the world.

While we've given you advantages and can buy those school supplies and pack your lunch, you’ll have to go it alone, now. I think that's why I'm struggling so much. I won't be there when you fall down. I won't be able to nudge you on that math worksheet or pick you up when you fall playing kickball. It's all on you now.

That’s why as the days draw nearer to the start of school, I hope you'll continue to test the waters, ask questions, imitate imagined conversations, and continue to laugh and run and play.

You've always been just a step to the side of shy, cautious, watching and learning before jumping in. While that trait comes with some limitations, it also has its advantages. Just don't be too shy. It's okay to take risks. I know in my heart you can accomplish anything you desire, so go all in!

Once I expressed my own hesitations about you entering kindergarten to a teacher acquaintance. Her advice stuck with me: The hardest part of releasing you to elementary school — or any new experience — is realizing that I must give you up to the less-than-perfect world that awaits you.

She was right!

While the world has been and always will be imperfect, I too have been an imperfect parent. But I was always willing to learn, to say I was sorry, to try harder the next time. And now I’m willing, though it scares me to death, to release you, with the knowledge that school, like parenting, will be rewarding and frustrating and I cannot change that. Despite all those advantages of your early life, you will have sad days and lonely days and days when you just don’t want to go, when your teacher doesn't notice you or your best friend won’t play with you or another kid is mean to you.

If there are a few thoughts that carry you through, let them be this: While your mom and I have to let you go, no matter what you think or do or become we will always be there for you and listen. We'll be there to laugh and play and help when you need it.

So don't be afraid to dance or make new friends or take
chances. Just be yourself.

And know that in our imperfect world, with all my imperfect ways, I have been given you as a daughter. The most perfect gift one could hope for.

Love,

Dad