Leaving Primary School: These are the days.
This week, Koko is leaving Primary School. At no point over the last eight years of her full time schooling, did I imagine feeling such an explosion of emotions when the time came for her to move on to pastures new. I am on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, of memories and of gratitude.
Koko is fully ready to make the move and very excited about the opportunities in front of her. She is as cool as a cucumber about the transition. But I never, ever stopped to think that I would feel so teary. I am usually quite easy going with this sort of thing.
Maybe it’s a combination of the emotional train wreck of the last 18 months and the fact that this moment is suddenly upon us, perhaps without the usual gradual build up. Or that we’ve been more hands on in her schooling over lockdown, than we would have otherwise been. I’m not quite sure how we got here or when it happened, but our little monkey Koko has matured into a Year 6 leaver.
That’s…
- 8 years
- 312 school weeks (Including 26 weeks of online schooling)
- 1,560 days and school dinners
- (approx) 4,500 playtimes
Koko has always been a cheeky, energetic character. Even as a tiny baby, and she was tiny at less than 6lbs and born four weeks early, even then, in those early months, she could command the attention of a room with just her smile. Just like Rhino, she was always a real charmer!
Koko is full of life, in every sense. She does not stop – moving, playing, creating….and talking! When she is not in the house, we suddenly feel a bit lost at the quiet and calm that has descended upon us. And I am constantly surprised by her ingenuity and her creativity.
Like when she made a cat hotel out of cereal boxes before we had even unloaded the shopping from the boot of the car. Or when she turned the bedrooms into cinema screens to make a film night for Kitty when the cinemas were closed, complete with ticket stubs and screen signs and snacks.
She was barely three years old when she started school full time. And despite a few years in full time nursery before then, she had plenty of wobbles in those early years.
In her nursery year, the teacher used to come out with a book at the end of every day. It was where they logged all the many, many messages for parents of the ‘incidents’ that had happened throughout the day. I used to dread that moment when the teacher would spot me and head straight for me, wondering whose eyes were upon me and whose ears were listening, as I stood there in the drizzling rain.
On one occasion I remember her saying, “I think I’ll just show you this one, rather than explain.”
Oh my goodness, it’s that bad, she can’t even say it.
And then she showed me the page of the book, with a lock of beautiful white blonde hair sellotaped to the paper. Koko was working on some craft when she had hold of the scissors and told her classmates “I know how to cut hair, my Pappy is a hairdresser. Look, this is what you do…” and with one snip, a curl of her beautiful hair fell to the table. You’ve got to be thankful for small mercies though –
At least it was her own hair.
And another time, at Parents’ Evening, the teacher chuckled and said “I have to tell you what she did today.” We looked on, anxiously awaiting the story.
Koko had stood in the middle of a circle of her 3 year old friends, holding a doll, and told them, “I know where babies come from!” before pulling the doll out from under her skirt and saying, “they fly out like this!”
That’s our Koko.
An absolute gem. A delight. A true free spirit.
And now she is growing up fast. Her time at school has not been all smooth sailing. I remember when she started Juniors, age seven, she came home saying,
“It is so boring. They have taken away all the toys and we have to sit at desks all day and work.”
Clearly not what had captured her wild imagination and her desire to be free. And she struggled at that age with sitting still to learn and wanted nothing more than to explore! She has always had so much energy that I feel she should have cartoon style clouds of dust following her everywhere she goes. She moves at supersonic speed and to the untrained eye, she resembles a Tasmanian Devil.
A few days after her fifth birthday, we got a call from school saying she’d hurt her arm and needed to go to hospital. It turned out she’d broken her humerus after attempting to do a one-handed handstand, and what’s more, neither of us were particularly suprised!
She always did spend more time on her hands than on her feet.
I have always been amazed at how her young mind grasps the complexity of topics covered in school, like when they learnt about Space, or Extreme Earth (her absolute favourite) and learning about Malala Yousafzai as part of the Superheroes theme. We were amazed by her maturity when discussing these issues at home and I had that niggling feeling,
that she was older than my eyes could see.
Koko, like many young girls, often lacks confidence in herself and in her work. The pivotal moment of change in this was when she started playing in the school netball team. It really sparked something in her, whilst also giving her a way to expel that excess energy. She practised every day and soon earned her place in the squad, even though she was a year younger than most of the other players. The tournament they played, shortly before Covid struck, will always remain one of her all time highlights of Primary School.
It just goes to show the endless benefits of extra-curricular activities for kids. This sense of team made her feel proud to be a part of the school and brought back a spring in her step that she had temporarily lost. Those staff who gave up their own time to train these kids, they knew that these rewards were far greater than those that could be achieved just inside a classroom. And we thank them for their commitment and their passion for the sport. And especially for the way they put our kids first.
These are the real superheroes.
In Year 2, Koko had a teacher, Miss Aderyn, who was so incredibly special. Being new to teaching, she lavished her energy and creativity on every child, looking after them each day, like they were her own. I remember Koko itching to get into school every day, to be back with her school family. Her ‘Teacher Mum’, her loyal and loveable TA sidekick and all the classmates that she loved like siblings. One night in the final term of Year 2, Koko was crying at bedtime. When I asked her what was wrong, my heart broke a little as she said,
“I’m so sad that I only have 6 more weeks left in Year 2. I wish I could stay in this class forever.”
Now that’s teacher magic for you.
We will never forget the influence Miss Aderyn had on Koko, at such an early, formative age, how much she cared and how attentively she taught them all.
We will always look back on that year with warm hearts.
At three years old, Koko was the messiest, most disorganised child I’d ever known. She could upend a room in seconds, before you’d even had a chance to make a cup of tea. At age two, she once smothered herself in Sudocreme and when I entered the room she proudly shouted “Sun Cream On!” beaming with pride that she was ready for the day ahead. Like I said, ingenuity and creativity in bounds!
At times, I worried she was too cheeky, too bright, too funny. That she didn’t fit the mould.
In the school nativity, at three years old, she played the role every parent dreams of for their child,
…… a camel.
And with her teacher saying she felt their group were the class comedians, she entrusted them to deliver the final line of Alice the Camel with much humour. And as they all sang,
“Because Alice was a horse of course.”
the audience roared with hilarity from the almost slapstick spectacle of these teeny tiny camels, acting their bold hearts out on their very own West End Stage.
There have been so many more comedic moments over the years, like that time she told me she had finished her pesto pasta and was ready for dessert, only for Rhino to later find the remaining pieces of Spirali, stuffed into her beautiful pink shoe and tucked away in the corner of the room.
Or the time she was searching for her apron for the School Eisteddfod on St David’s Day and she shouted from the playroom, “I’ve found it”, only to then bring this out, from one of her Sylvanian Families characters, with a dead pan look on her face.
She must have only been four or five at the time and already had a repertoire that would see her good for a spot of stand up at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
When I look back at how much she has grown since those days, I feel honoured to have such a witty and wonderful daughter.
And she is now the most organised and tidy one in the household.
Her Primary School has been a part of our everyday for the last eight years. School bells, homework, Helpwr Heddiw, milk monitor, nativities, choirs and concerts, reading cafes, fruit pots, dinner money and lunchboxes, PE kit, Parents’ Evenings, Earl the Early Years bear, hook day costumes, Sports Day and netball practice, not to mention the lollipop lady who greets each parent with a heartfelt “Hello/ See you tomorrow” every single day and those last crazy weeks of the Christmas and Summer terms, with multiple engagements and feeling like you’re running on zero, trying to make every last one.
This has been our last eight years.
Rhino does the school run, usually with a surf check en route, and although we get little bits of information from Koko here and there, who really knows what goes on inside of those hours, every day between 9 and 3.30?
It’s like a whole secret world where our littlest ones discover who they are, away from the comfort of their home bubble and develop an independence, that is all the while setting them up for life in the big wide world.
What we do know, is that we’d have been lost without the community hub that has shaped our lives for the last eight years. And we stand at this point and look back with gratitude. For the incredible efficiency of the admin team and how they kept us feeling like we were doing a great job even when we missed deadlines and forgot books and lunchboxes, always accommodating our last minute needs without judgement and with smiles on their faces. For all the wonderful lessons, indoors and out, the hook days, school trips, dojos, rewards and playtimes.
We are both so grateful for all the wonderful experiences that Koko has had in her school.
And for the staff who saw her, not just as another pupil, but as someone else’s whole world.
Koko has made many, many fabulous friends in her time at Primary School, she has embraced her inner Picasso with multiple pieces of fridge-worthy art, and more recently, been part of an entrepreneurial team which set up their own zero waste community shop, run directly from the school.
She has learnt how to fall out, forgive and forget, the importance of sharing, and being helpful and kind, what it means to be a part of a team, and how to look out for those around you. And how, if you work and persevere, you will succeed.
She has also changed in ways beyond our wildest dreams.
I’m pretty sure that school has a magic wand hidden in there somewhere.
It’s like you drop them off as babies at age three and then when you pick them up at the end of that last day at age eleven, they are somehow ready to make their entry into the wider world.
I am one of three siblings and I remember my Dad telling me how he drove past our Primary School after we had all left it. How he was suddenly hit by the realisation that the school had been such a huge part of our family life for about fourteen years and now, that time had passed.
How the time once seemed endless and yet suddenly it had, in fact, reached an end. And at the time, I didn’t quite understand what he meant. But I was only young.
It takes time, to appreciate time.
I will always remember being sad when the moment came for me to return to work after maternity leave. As if the bubble of pregnancy and babyhood had suddenly been burst. That it had all come to an abrupt end. And then I realised something.
It wasn’t the end. It was just time for the next chapter.
And that chapter turned out to be equally special.
So, here we are again. With those same feelings. Looking back with a tinge of sadness for the time that cannot be brought back, but holding the lovely memories dear and bravely venturing forward into the next unwritten page in the book. And all the adventures and surprises that will come with it.
Koko – these are the days, the world is yours!
“Here’s to the friends that we made,
Cheers to the friends that we had on the way,
Cause the friends bring back all the memories
of everything we’ve been through…
Toast to the teachers that cared,
Toast to the things we all shared,
Cause the friends bring back all the memories
And the memories bring back, memories bring back School.”
