Tomorrow, Tink goes for her first transition morning at her new school. I won’t lie, I have mixed feelings about it. I am excited for us to start this new chapter, but I am so very nervous too. I am worried that she won’t like it! We think it seems like a fantastic place, and the head teacher thinks Tink will fit right in, but what if she doesn’t? What if she’s unhappy there? What if she can’t express that?
I am worried about the travelling. Not that we have that sorted yet! We are hoping she will be provided with transport to and from school every day (either bus or a taxi), otherwise, it’s a 28 mile round trip for me twice a day! In my big, dirty diesel-guzzling car. And before or after school clubs for H. Which we can’t afford. But, if she does get transport, I am nervous about putting her on the bus with strangers (at first) to go all that way and back again. Will she be ok with it? Will she behave? Will she fall asleep? What if there’s an accident?
I am worried about her having to wear uniform again. She has flatly refused to do so this year, although she doesn’t have to in Nursery. She wore it happily last year, but screams at the sight of it now. However, uniform is compulsory at her new school, so we have a few weeks to get her used to the idea.
I am still worried as to whether it’s the right thing for her, going to a school for children with special educational needs (SEN). Part of me is sad that she will no longer be mixing with typically-developing children. The places we go and events we attend are becoming much more restricted to those that cater for children with SEN, and in going to this school, her experience of the non-SEN world decreases even further. It’s ok for now, but what happens when she eventually leaves the nurturing cocoon of full-time SEN education and has to make her way in the big, wide world? All I can do is hope that between school and ourselves, we can provide her with learning opportunities as often as we can as she grows up.
I know that most of these are silly, trivial worries. I know that we are bloody lucky to have got her a place in a school we loved, even if it is in the next county. But, me being me, I can’t help worrying.
What I think scares me the most is that my baby is really not a baby anymore. We’ve been in a bit of a bubble this last year, with her staying in nursery while her friends all moved on to Reception, with its maths and reading and phonics and structure. But now, we finally have to let her go and forge her way on this new path. We have to trust that her new teachers will get to know her quickly. We have to trust that they know what they’re doing and that they’re doing their best.
And I will do my best to send her off on this new adventure as prepared as she can be, with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.