30 Jul How humour helped my son settle into school
When Gail Fernandes’s youngest son began feeling lost and anxious at school, their shared sense of humour helped him regain his confidence — and find a sense of security in his new classroom.
A confident beginning
It was the first day of school for my youngest son. His face was flushed with excitement as he hoisted his big new bag onto his shoulders and tried not to let on how heavy it felt.
There was only a moment’s hesitation as he stood at the doorway of his new classroom, surveying all the other excited faces around him. The room was crowded with children and anxious parents.
When the bell went, it was time for the parents to leave — some with heavy hearts and others with barely disguised relief. My son waved cheerfully and I headed home, alone for the first time in five years.
Walking back to the car, I felt a curious mixture of joy and sadness. My son was taking his first big step into the world, beginning a life beyond the safety of home. I also felt an undeniable sense of freedom and relief that everything had gone so smoothly.
The next morning was much the same. A few children had long faces, but soon settled in. Some parents still looked worried that their children weren’t coping as well as they had hoped.
I felt rather pleased that my little boy had made it through without any fuss — until I arrived at pick-up time and found his cheeks stained with tears.
“What happened?” I asked. “Why did you cry?”
He looked startled. “How did you know I cried?”
I chuckled to myself, but replied seriously, “Mums know everything.”
He looked at me suspiciously. Then he shrugged.
“I got lost.”
Lost in a crowd
“Lost?” I repeated, not quite understanding.
“In the playground,” he said.
“Where did everybody else go?” I asked, wondering whether he had somehow missed seeing the others return to the classroom. The playground was hardly large enough to become truly lost in.
“I don’t know,” he replied slowly. “Everybody was there, but I couldn’t find them. I couldn’t find my friends.”
For a moment I was puzzled. Then it struck me. I could see the playground through his eyes: a little boy surrounded by a swirl of uniforms that made everyone look alike.
I began to realise that starting school could feel overwhelming in ways adults might not immediately understand. Some children fear being away from their parents. Others worry they won’t be accepted by their classmates. For my son, the problem was not quite so simple.
The next morning he walked to school with heavy feet. I watched the children file out of class in pairs for assembly. My normally cheerful son looked lost, alone and sorrowful.
“I miss you, Mum,” was the only explanation he could give me.
His teacher was new too, but she had a calm and gentle way with the children. She had been the one to find his friends when he felt lost in the playground.
Even so, I was still perplexed when I left him with her the following morning, conscious of his anxiety as a tear rolled down his cheek.
A little joke changes the mood
When I picked him up that afternoon, he looked relieved.
“I didn’t cry the whole day — just a little in the morning!” he announced breathlessly.
I stared at him in mock astonishment.
“What! You didn’t cry after that? Not even a bit?”
He chuckled, and I saw a glimmer of his usual self return.
“I must have a word with your teacher,” I said.
I walked purposefully across the room, with my son following excitedly at my heels.
“We have a problem,” I said seriously, although my eyes may have given the game away.
“What is it?” his teacher asked, looking anxiously from me to my son.
“He didn’t cry the whole day!” I complained.
For a moment, she looked aghast that I should actually want him to cry. Then she noticed the merriment in our eyes, and her expression softened into a smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my little boy almost bursting with suppressed laughter.
I wasn’t entirely sure his teacher understood my behaviour, so I added something I genuinely felt.
“Thank you for your patience this morning, and for helping him through his anxiety.”
Finding his place
The next morning, my son said goodbye without tears.
When I picked him up that afternoon, he ran towards me.
“I didn’t cry a bit today!”
I beamed. “Wow!”
His teacher smiled at his excitement and mine.
Then his little voice continued: “I said I didn’t cry a bit. I cried a lot!”
His teacher gaped.
“What!” I exclaimed, dropping my jaw in exaggerated disappointment. “So you did cry?”
He burst into laughter, and I had to smile too. I know my child. He loves a joke, and he loves to keep me on my toes. He finds ways to laugh at life and at the little pitfalls that come with it.
By then, his teacher had recovered and was laughing too. I saw my son glance towards her with delight.
Something had shifted. He was no longer quite so lost. He had begun to feel safe, understood and at home in his new classroom.
Illustrations by Jodi Pratt
