Back to School: A Mom’s Completely Honest Version

by Maria Williams

Back to school is part fresh start, part emotional breakdown, and part trying to remember which child needs the twelve-pack of glue sticks.

Every August, moms everywhere are expected to create a smooth and meaningful transition from summer to the new school year. We are supposed to reset bedtimes, buy supplies, complete seventeen forms, plan balanced lunches, take adorable first-day pictures, and gently support everyone’s complicated emotions.

Meanwhile, we are standing in the school-supply aisle holding two nearly identical blue folders while a child insists one is definitely wrong.

This is back to school from a mom’s point of view. It is exciting. It is emotional. It is expensive. And no matter how prepared you think you are, somebody will announce at 9:42 the night before school that they need poster board.

The Back-to-School Fantasy

In the fantasy, the backpacks are packed several days early. Every supply is labeled in neat handwriting. The children happily choose their first-day outfits, then go to bed on time because they understand the importance of rest.

In the fantasy, Mom wakes before the alarm. She makes a nutritious breakfast, writes encouraging notes for the lunchboxes, and drinks an entire cup of coffee while it is still hot. Everyone leaves the house smiling. Nobody cries. Nobody forgets anything. Nobody suddenly hates the shoes they loved yesterday.

It is a beautiful fantasy. We should visit it whenever we need a little escape.

The reality is that someone cannot find a sock. Not a special sock. Just any sock. The lunchbox is still damp because apparently it spent the final week of summer sealed inside a backpack with half a granola bar. The first-day sign will not print, the teenager has banned photographs, and Mom is saying, “We are not starting the year like this,” even though this is exactly how we start every year.

Moms Have First-Day Jitters Too

We spend so much time helping our kids with their feelings that we sometimes forget we are having our own.

We are relieved to get the routine back, then immediately feel guilty for being relieved. We cannot wait for a quiet house, then stand in that quiet house wondering what to do with ourselves. We want our kids to grow up, become independent, and walk confidently into the next chapter. We would also like them to stay little enough to need us, but only in sweet and convenient ways.

The first day has a sneaky way of reminding us that time is moving whether we approve of the schedule or not. One minute, they need us to walk them to the classroom. The next, they would prefer that we drop them three blocks away and avoid making eye contact.

So yes, take the picture. Even if they roll their eyes. Even if one child is blinking and the other looks like they are being held against their will. That photograph is not going into a magazine. It is proof that everybody was dressed and near the front door at the same time. That is an accomplishment.

The Completely Unofficial Must-Do List

First, locate the backpack before the night before school. I know this sounds ambitious, but we are trying new things. Check the pockets while wearing gloves and maintaining realistic expectations.

Next, label everything you can reasonably label. Water bottles, lunchboxes, folders, sweatshirts. Probably not the child, but no judgment. Then pack a lunch they will actually eat. The lunch does not need to look like a woodland creature or contain cucumbers cut into stars. A sandwich shaped like a sandwich remains a valid sandwich.

Make sure everyone has shoes that fit, and do not accept “I think so” as a reliable measurement. Reset bedtime before the first day if possible. If that does not happen, simply announce “early bedtime tonight” for three consecutive weeks until everyone stops laughing.

On the first morning, feed them something. Take the picture. Remind them that feeling nervous is normal. Remind yourself too. Then send them into the world with love, encouragement, and whatever crumpled form you just signed against the steering wheel.

When they come home, resist the urge to conduct a full investigation before the backpack hits the floor. “How was your day?” will probably get you “fine.” Try offering a snack. Information tends to appear near carbohydrates.

Finally, celebrate surviving day one. A special dinner is lovely, but cereal counts. The goal is not to create a perfect memory. The goal is to get everyone through the transition with most of the supplies and at least one usable shoe.

And Then There Are the Teacher-Moms

Teacher-moms deserve their own paragraph, a snack, and possibly a small parade.

They are preparing a classroom for other people’s children while trying to prepare their own children at home. They can remember twenty-five student names, four dismissal changes, three allergies, and a brand-new schedule, then completely forget that their own child needed headphones.

They may miss their child’s classroom visit because they are hosting one of their own. They may answer parent emails while an unsigned form sits on their kitchen counter. They spend the first day making a room full of students feel safe, then go home wondering whether they gave enough to their own family.

As a mom who spent 19 years in the classroom, I know there is no perfectly balanced version of this. Some days, school gets more of you. Some days, home does. That does not mean you are failing at either one. It means you are one person doing two jobs that both come with endless forms and people asking you where their things are.

Back to school does not need to be picture-perfect to be good. Your child can be nervous. You can be relieved. The teacher can have a crooked bulletin board. Someone can forget the water bottle. The year will continue.

The Pretty Truth is, a successful first day is not one where nothing goes wrong. It is one where everybody eventually gets home, takes off their shoes, and agrees to try again tomorrow.

Want More Pretty Truth in Your Life?

For more honesty, humor, and encouragement from inside the classroom, The Pretty Truth About Education was written with teachers and the people who love them in mind.

Xo, Maria

Buy The Pretty Truth About Education