By Krystal Sieben 
Somehow, I thought I’d have kids in the “little” school forever. As I nervously dropped my oldest off for kindergarten more than six years ago, I had a toddler who was singing in the back and a newborn sleeping in her infant seat. My kids being done with the K-2 school in our district seemed like a far-off land and time I knew was out there, but could never picture myself reaching.
This little school is where I found my groove as a mom. From the first day I ever said goodbye to one of my babies that long, to handing over my precocious middle child and sending his kindergarten teacher a silent “Godspeed” as I drove away, to walking my third and final in for kindergarten drop-off like a seasoned pro. Knowing the shortcuts, the other parents, the awesome kindergarten teacher who let them hatch chicks. I knew it all. Where to park, where to go. The forms to fill out.
Because the thing is, these little schools grow our children, but they also grow us.
I’ll miss the art on the walls. The young-ness of the voices in the cafeteria. The extra care that teachers of this age group give the kids. I’ll miss the tenderness toward the parents, like when I worried about something on the playground, or when my son couldn’t quite get his snow boots on right. I’ll miss the comfort of packing a snack and knowing there is a designated time for this. I’ll miss how excited my kids were for school.
I’ll miss the security this safe little school offered my kids—and me. When they were there, I never had to worry. That’s simply everything.
I’ll miss the patient women in the office, the angels who were there rain, shine, or snowstorm to greet kiddos hopping out of messy backseats. I’ll miss the teachers who are so organized with their decorated classrooms and loving demeanors. I’ll miss the folders coming home with journals and drawings and opportunities to come into classrooms (while it’s still not embarrassing to have mom visit). I’ll miss the innocence. The remembering of birthdays. The little singing voices at the music performances.
I’ll miss the relationships—for my kids and me, because these teachers taught me too. As I watch my kiddos grow and say goodbye, I’m sad because I’m growing and saying goodbye too.
Most of all, as we move on, I’m saying thank you. For keeping my babies safe. For making them love school. For doing a job that just doesn’t get enough love.
You grew my kids and you grew me.
Thank you, Wildwood.
