On separation

So school is going pretty well, but I think I have separation anxiety. The morning drop-offs continue to be hard. Sebastian didn’t tear up again after the first day, but the way he lets himself be led off with this kind of numb look on his face, I know his anxiety about being able to do what’s expected of him is triggered. I wish he would smile, or skip, or turn around and wave to me. But I feel like he is nervous, and there is no way for me to give him enough hugs through the glass.

And I don’t feel very comfortable myself, because, frankly, I really don’t know what I’m sending him off to. I haven’t met or talked to his teacher — I don’t even know what she looks like! All I know is she told my anxious-to-please son that it is apparently very important that he color “perfectly” within the lines. Maybe she said it in a nice way. I don’t know. But I do know that it’s not the good Zoom teachers who are currently teaching in person. I miss Miss Stacey. She was brilliant.

And I don’t know what the classroom looks like, but I know it’s not normal. This morning on the way to school, Sebastian told me he likes his old teacher from last year better than this new one. Part of the reason is she had more toys. I explained to him that all the kids can’t be playing with the same toys because of the pandemic, to which he responded, “Oh, is that why we all have our own buckets of toys then?” Which left me picturing these kids in plastic bubbles like hamsters, each with their own toys and supplies, never having any contact or interaction. I mean, I don’t know, I’m sure it’s…