Transition

It was a big week last week---EJ finished up her first year of preschool, I handed in my capstone, and the whole family took a collective sigh of relief as the beginning of a less stressful summer than we've had in years spread out in front of us.

That sense of relief was not instantaneous, though. Ending school was hard for EJ, who was very cognizant of the fact that she would soon be missing her friends. The whole week before the end, as her teachers talked to the class about kindergarten so the older kids would be more ready, EJ became more and more resolute that she, too, should go to kindergarten with them next year. She was not happy when we told her that she had to wait an entire year.

Then there was the tantrumming, about everything and nothing, both at home and at school. For example, after a few nice, sunny, warm days, we had a bit of a cold snap. Unfortunately, EJ had gotten attached to wearing sundresses to school, and did not like my insistence one morning that she wear a long-sleeved dress with matching leggings. She threw a really nice fit, which I ignored, so she escalated her tactics. When finally faced with the reality that wearing a long-sleeved dress=go to school, while not wearing long-sleeves=stay home, watch Mommy work, she relented. Of course, getting out the door dressed appropriately wasn't the end of the story. All the way to school, she scowled at me, saying things like, "I'm going to tell everyone that you hurted my feelings!" and "You like this dress but my friends WILL NOT like it and I will not talk to them about it AT ALL." The final charmer: "I am not going to smile ALL DAY." I told her that if she wasn't going to smile, I might as well drop her off at some boring queue, like at the bank or the cable company. I still have nightmares about having to wait in line for a new cable box with her as a toddler---shutter, shutter, no smiles there. Even in long sleeves, though, utility companies did not interest her. Her response: an eye roll and a loud, "I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO THE CABLE COMPANY! NO!" Good choice.

Her teachers told me that she was getting wrangled about all kinds of things, but that all the kids were wound up, so it was par for the course. They sent out a lovely note about how kids may act differently, sometimes horribly, during big changes, and that we should just watch for it and try to talk them through their feelings. We kept our eyes open for emotional flare-ups, and all made it through the week, which capped off with a party/"goodbye ceremony" at nursery school on Friday. My folks came down for the event, which made EJ so happy she could barely contain herself. She was sitting in the front row, and kept turning around to smile and explain things to Nana and Papa.

Interestingly enough, though, at the ceremony, the director of the program spoke about how hard change is, but how it is just part of life and we all have to just learn to go with it and smile/be happy/get over it/etc. Fair enough, I guess, although I really don't buy that.

Sure, change happens, and we have to accept it. Sometimes embracing it is the way to go right from the start. But change isn't what gets everyone upset, per se. According to William Bridges, it is transition, the psychological reaction to change, that takes time to work through. Grad school friends know how much I "heart" Bridges---all of us seem to have found models or concepts that resonated the most for us during school, and for me, Bridges' transition model is way at the top of the list. According to Bridges, while change may happen in a more finite way---you move, you finish a school year, you have a baby---transition evolves from that change---you learn your new neighborhood, you make a summer schedule, you get used to the daily work and identity shift of being a parent.

Transition always starts with an ending---a grieving period, a time to make note of what is now over, and to honor that past. So many people don't take time to feel these feelings when change comes, because they want to get on with it, deal with the change, etc. This is particularly true when change is positive---who would suspect that getting a promotion, for example, would come with some loss, but ask most people who have been moved up the ladder, and they'll tell you they miss things like coffee with colleagues, autonomy without responsibility for others, even details like the place that they used to sit in the office.

So, it is not surprising, the night before I go to defend my capstone, during the week between EJ's nursery school end and the beginning of her summer camp, when the days are long and unscheduled and ambiguous, that I feel like I'm in that ending stage. Of course, I am relieved about moving forward, and especially happy to be done with late-night homework and juggling of school and parenting. That said, I will miss the built-in intellectual stimulation to my day. I'll miss the feeling of expertise that comes with working on a project for this long---I'll still know my stuff, but I certainly won't be thinking about it often. Most of all, I'll miss the friends. This change has already been felt, as my last year of school, working on my capstone without many classes to attend, has been largely solitary. I miss having a built-in reason to see smart, funny, interesting people who care about many of the same things I care about. Sure, we'll keep in touch online, and some of us will get together socially on occasion, but it just isn't the same, there is no getting around it.

I'll miss the friends at preschool, too---the other moms and dads and caregivers and teachers I've gotten to know and enjoy so much. If I'm going to miss adults I see only a few minutes a day, I can't imagine how much EJ is going to miss her friends. Thankfully, with the extra time I'll have this summer, I can be more diligent about planning playdates, something I typically fail at, miserably. Also a plus: camp is at her school, and a handful of her favorite girls will be in it, too, so both of us will have more of our routine returned, at least for a few weeks.

With transition, not change, in mind, all of the three-year old acting out makes perfect sense. Without the conceptual understanding of an ending (i.e., she will not go to school with this group of kids ever again), the ending stage of transition must be particularly hard for EJ to work out. I'm privileged to get the opportunity to navigate through it with her, to help her put words to her feelings, and to figure out some activities that honor the happy memories she has from this year.

There are only two more stages of transition, according to Bridges---the neutral zone, and the new beginning. I'm not jumping ahead, though. I've learned from experience that, if I work on this ending, I'll be in the neutral zone before I know it, sorting out what our new patterns and routines will be, and testing out what works and what doesn't. Until then, we're just living in the moment, taking the feelings (and tantrums) as they come, and thoughtfully letting go of school to make way for new adventures.