Meera Goes To School

Meera Grace is a girl who knows what she needs and wants. She’s got a strong center and she chooses her battles carefully. She lets the little stuff roll off her. But when it comes to the big deals in her life, she is not afraid to put herself out there and go for what she wants. She’s relatively quiet, but very expressive (again, she chooses her battles). She is the epitome of go-with-the-flow, but at the big forks in the road she has always led her own way— often prompting the rest of us to sit up and take note that we even are at a fork (Meera often pushes the envelope long before we even see the envelope coming).

These things have been true about Meera since the day she was born. She decided when she was ready to stop nursing; she pushed us to start solid foods early; she jump started the switch from bottles to sippy cups; she wanted out of a crib and into a big girl bed; she potty trained herself; she told us when she was ready to start school; and everyone knows that she decides what she will and won’t wear. She doesn’t throw fits about these things, rather she just calmly and collectedly lets us know exactly what she wants and needs, and then tenaciously makes sure it happens. She’s typically sweet and polite. But she’s also strong-willed and independent. It takes a lot to push her buttons, but when they are pushed, she’s got a fierce temper. She’s a gentle soul and a force to be reckoned with. All at the same time. It is a complex mix.

Last December, when Meera was exactly 2.5 years old, she decided she was done staying home with our nanny Margie. Margie had been taking care of Meera for just about two years and was a major pillar of our family. Braydon and I had hoped that Margie would be with us forever (or at least until the bambinos’ had all graduated high school). But Meera suddenly had other ideas. Seemingly out of the blue she started telling us that she wanted to go to school. It started with a simply stated, “Mommy, I want to go to my own school” one day, and then quickly ramped up to a barrage of sure and steady “I want my own school”; and “I want you to drop me off”; and “I want my own teacher”; and “I don’t want to stay home with Margie.” Within a week or two Meera was – in her gentle but determined manner – all over us about this and it soon became clear that she not only knew exactly what she was saying, but that she was dead serious about it. Along with a lot of other things that we’ve learned from Meera, we’ve learned that it is important to listen and take her seriously. And so we did. We started looking into daycare options for Meera.

Meera, early January 2011 

We found a daycare that we really liked. But they had a waiting list until September. We tried to get Meera on board with waiting until the fall, but she was having none of it. We went to our #2 daycare and signed her up to begin. And then we had to do something that was really, really hard. We had to let Margie go. What helped was that Margie knew Meera so well, and she agreed that starting daycare was the right thing for her. What hurt was losing the daily presence of someone who had become such a central part of our family’s life. For two years Margie was a major source of strength, comfort, and confidence for our family. She had come to hold so much of our mode-of-operation together. Margie loved us all, and we all loved Margie, but she had cared for (and loved) Meera since she was a tiny baby, and the two of them had spent so much time together and shared such a special bond.

   Margie and Meera in the kitchen, early in the morning on one of Margie’s last days of work at our house

 Meera at age 1, eating Puerto Rican food; Margie didn’t cook for us often, but on the rare occasions that she did we all loved her cooking— Meera especially couldn’t get enough of it

To this day I believe that a lot of Meera’s strength of character and gentle manner come in large part from Margie. She was a wonderful nanny for Meera and an important presence in Meera’s early personality development. It was really hard to say goodbye to Margie. We are still in regular contact, but it will never be the same as having her at our house every week. Soon enough, Margie had a new nanny job with another family, and we were getting Meera ready for her first day of “school.” We knew with full confidence that we were doing the right thing because Meera was letting us know. She was happy, self-assured, and sure of herself. We had a special dinner the night before she started (her favorite meal: grilled steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli). And we gave her a new pink backpack (and Kyle and Owen took about a million photos of her with their iPods). The next day she was more than ready for her first day and couldn’t wait to start.

Meera’s first day of school, January 25, 2011

Her first day of daycare drop-off was something I’ll probably never forget. We took her in, hugged her goodbye, and off she went. She did not bat an eye. She did not shed a tear. Nothing but smiles and a calm centeredness about her that gave us total affirmation that this was exactly what she wanted (and probably needed). Every day after was just like the first. While I often had a lump in my throat dropping Meera off (and sometimes even cried on my way to work about having to leave her), she seemed to be nothing but confidently happy with daycare. After three months of smooth tearless drop-offs and happy daycare days the director of the daycare pulled me aside and told me that in all of her years of working in childcare facilities she had never seen a child adjust as smoothly as Meera. By late spring Meera was absolutely thriving at “school” and loving life. The best part, for her, was her friends. As an outside observer I was becoming really intrigued by the fact that it really seemed to me that Meera and her girlfriends were, at age just-turning-3, really-truly-genuinely tight tight tight friends. In and outside of school.

We pulled Meera out of daycare for the summer— something I don’t regret for a second (she had a fabulous summer at home with her brothers), but I knew she missed her friends. We had playdates, but that doesn’t compare to being together everyday. And here is the real kicker: she was no longer on the waiting list for our original 1st choice daycare—she now had a spot to start there in September. People wait months and months (people including us; we waited 8 months) to get into this place. It is “the best.” A gorgeous state-of-the-art facility, beautiful hardwood floors, huge windows with natural light all pouring in; teachers with all sorts of certifications; and a list of awards a mile long. How could we not jump at the chance for Meera to start preschool there? She was signed up to begin in September at her “new school.”

Summer ended and the first day of school came. Meera was beyond excited for her “new school.” Her visit the week before had gone as well as could be expected, and we were excited for her to have the opportunity to be at such a lovely place. Drop off was a breeze as she confidently jumped right in.

We picked her up that day and I immediately knew that something was not right. I’m her mama and I know; she didn’t whine or complain, but it was written all over her face. On the car ride home that day she told her brothers and me that she didn’t like her new school and wants to go back to her old school. I hoped it was just a little adjustment thing, but I suspected –knowing my daughter— that it wasn’t. The next morning she said she didn’t want to go to school— something she had never done any morning at her prior school. And this continued for her entire first week. I spent some time observing in her classroom and I started to feel like I could understand where she was coming from— there was something palpably more cold about this place; something less welcoming about the teachers and the kids; a beautiful facility but a culture that seemed (dare I say it: way too white and upper crust) and slightly ‘off.’  This was “the best” but if Meera wasn’t happy there, it was not the best for us. That weekend we started having serious conversations about switching her back to her old school. Conversations within our family, within our inner circle, with Meera’s old teacher, and with Meera.

By Monday we had decided that we’d move Meera back to her old daycare. They said we could start the following Monday. We didn’t have the heart to send her back to the new place. So Braydon and I did one of the things we do best: we sat down and strategized our crisis management— How to juggle our schedules, re-schedule and cancel all sorts of things, and move stuff around so that we could cover Meera for a week of no childcare? We had a semi-insane week, but we pulled it off, and every day Meera let us know we were doing the right thing by her. She communicates so clearly if we take the time to listen.

And so, this morning, she started school again. Back to her old place with raggedy old carpeting and fluorescent lighting and no reputation of being “the best.” Back to her old place with loving teachers and a welcoming (incredibly diverse) culture and – most importantly for Meera: her tight little group of girlfriends. No big prestigious awards are being won there. But because of Meera, they’ve won this family. If Meera is happy, then it is “the best” as far as we’re concerned.

At  pick up today Meera did not want to leave. She was on the playground swinging on the swings with her friend Savannah. I watched as the two of them giggled up a storm as only 3-year-old girls can do. Meera was happy. On the drive home she told us that school was “great!” and that her day was “pretty awesome!” She can’t wait to go back tomorrow.

I’m so glad we heard her.

So, that’s the story of Meera and school. For now. “Chapter 1” we might call it. I can only imagine what the future holds for this girl. (But I’m pretty sure she’ll know exactly where she wants to go to college. And God willing, we’ll hopefully be able to send her there.)

Dear Meera,

Please keep your calm and centered soul always within you. It is so soothing to all those around you. And please keep your tenacious spirit. It is deeply inspiring. Never feel ashamed for making clear what you want and need. And always surround yourself with people who will do their best to give you what you ask for. You are special.

Love, Your Mommy