From the moment Tyler was born, Ryan and I have done
everything possible to keep him safe. As a tiny, 5 pound newborn, he was always
buckled snuggly in his car seat, with no more than one finger width of space
between his shoulders and the two strategically placed straps that covered
them. His food was cut into microscopic pieces, each and every outlet was
plugged and small objects were off the floor and out of his reach. At three years old, Tyler may not have known
his middle name but he knew exactly how many smoke detectors we had in our
house and he could recite a detailed escape plan in the event of a fire.
In the summer, one of
us is constantly reminding Tyler that he needs to wear his helmet and in the
winter, his hat and mittens. There is a neon yellow sign at the end of our cul-de-sac
warning incoming cars of children at play. The tag inside Tyler’s backpack lists
our contact information in the event that he gets lost and if he doesn’t happen
to be carrying it? He can recite his name, phone number and a good portion of
his address. He looks both ways for cars and we remind him often to wash his
hands before eating. Each fall we bribe him with a toy in exchange for a flu
shot.
In May, Tyler turned 5. Ryan and I had just 4 short months
to decide if we would be sending our little boy to Kindergarten. We had many
conversations about bullying, bus rides and our child’s attention span. We
wondered if Tyler would make friends easily, listen attentively and make the
right choices, even if his best buddies made the wrong ones. We weighed the
pros and cons and waffled back and forth but ultimately, we decided that he
simply wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to board the big yellow bus, to spend 8
hours a day in a classroom or to have some kid burst his bubble by telling him
pink was a “girl” color.
During all of those hours spent discussing kindergarten, our
expectations and concerns, there was one thing that NEVER crossed my mind: my
child’s wellbeing in the classroom. I certainly thought about how difficult it
would be to drop Tyler off that first day and whether or not he would be able
to navigate the bus in the days thereafter, but I never, ever considered that
he wouldn’t be safe after he arrived. Ryan and I have spent a great deal of time
talking with Tyler about fires, tornadoes and strangers, but I was unaware that
my five year old needed to know how to escape a bullet. The unthinkable tragedy
in Connecticut has changed all of that. The loss of all of those little ones
who look far too much like our own child has shaken our foundation and put a
fear within us that we didn’t know existed. I cannot even begin to understand how
the parents of those innocent children feel and I selfishly pray that I never
have to. Nobody should have to.
Next September, Ryan and I will be faced with the
Kindergarten dilemma once again. Nine months will have passed, but the Connecticut
tragedy and the fears that stem from it will undoubtedly be at the forefront of
our thoughts. Despite the uncertainties, we will hug our little boy tightly and
then step back and watch as he hops aboard the school bus; eyes glistening with
anticipation and a tummy filled with nervous butterflies.
The heartbreaking truth is that malevolence will always
exist in our world. Tragedies of all types will continue to occur and we will struggle
to comprehend the senselessness of it all. In spite of all of that, I refuse to
let the malice outshine the immense amount of good. People who are
honest, caring and selfless; those who give without expectations and are kind
to their core. People, just like those kindergarten teachers who, without a
second thought, put the lives of their students before their own.
Tyler will be
going to kindergarten next year. He will have the opportunity to spend his days
learning to read, write and to raise his hand before he speaks. He will make
new friends, learn the rules of the playground and overcome those butterflies. Above
all of that, my son will undoubtedly have the opportunity to be surrounded by
good people…an opportunity that I want nothing more than for him to experience.
