It's not fair.

My mom used to remind me all the time that I better get used to it, because that's just life. But today, I found myself saying, for the first time in a long time, "It's not fair."

As long as I've worked for this school district (11 years, to be exact), the Kindergartners have always started school one day later than the 1st-5th graders. Never having taught Kindergarten personally, my assumption has always been that the entire school in general is just slightly calmer on the second day, than on the first. The first day is fraught with many "firsts" and "brand-news." Kids that don't know how they're getting home, extra parents bustling about, lots of rules, reminders, and butterfly tummies. It only made sense to me to wait one extra day before introducing the real "deer in the headlights" group: the Kinders.

And so I assumed, blissfully ignorant, that tradition would roll on this year as always. (Cue the airhorn): WRONG! This year, the powers that be decided to change things; to stir things up. Though I don't know the reasoning (and neither does our head secretary, which is really saying something), I do know that it messes with MY life.

Because this means that Camryn's first. day. of. real. school. EVER. will be on the same first day of school as mine and as Brian's. This means that while she steps into her Kindergarten classroom for the first day of her 13 years of public education, I'm supposed to be across town in my fifth grade classroom, greeting 11 year olds who would rather be sleeping in. And Brian is supposed to be in Salem, greeting 16 year olds, who would really rather be sleeping in. And our Baby Girl is just supposed to take this day on by herself??? I don't THINK so.

When I had this realization this afternoon, I (admittedly) had a bit of a panic attack. I called Camryn's school's office to verify said information. I called my school office to complain and ask for reasoning. I called my teacher friends, my mom, my mother in law, and my principal, to beg him to give me a free pass for the first half hour of the first day of school. I was a desperate woman.

It's not so much that the idea of all of this really bothers Camryn. Because it doesn't. She's perfectly happy with the idea that Grandma or Mimi or Auntie Beth or our neighbor, for that matter, will drop her off that day. The significance of the occasion is lost on her. It's more about the fact that I don't want to miss it. I don't want to be the working mom that missed her Baby Girl's first day of school. I don't want to regret it years down the road, that I didn't stand up for myself and find a way to make it work. Plus, it's a little bit about my pride. I want to be the one that walks her in that day, holding her hand, and being so proud to say that she is my big girl. I just can't fathom missing out on that moment.

Though I realize how flaky and strange and awkward it will be for my students (and a few parents) to walk into my classroom on that first day, and find someone else in my place, I can't help but flip to the other side of the coin and say, "Yeah. But..."

There will never be another day like this. There will never be another year when she'll hold my hand willingly as we walk into her classroom, that she'll be exactly this excited about finally going to school, and that she'll be quite this wide-eyed at the whole experience. There will be many more groups of fifth graders in my classroom, but there will never be another first day of Kindergarten for Camryn.

I am truly amazed at the outpouring of support by all of those people I called in such a tizzy. I've had offers from grandparents, aunties, daycare providers, and neighbors to take her. I've had family offer to drive three hours and stay the night, just to drive her down the road. I've had encouragement from my teacher/mommy friends to push for my right to attend, and I've even had offers from coworkers who have offered to take my class for that first half hour (in addition to their own!!!) to make it work.

What became clear to me pretty quickly was that #1: I (for once) was not over-reacting (too badly, anyway); that it really is a big deal for a Mommy to attend, and #2: That there are many, many people who love Camryn enough to put aside their own busy schedules and responsibilities, to help us out. She must be a pretty special girl to be able to command so many offers of assistance from so many people who love her. And that is exactly why I want to be the one to do it. Because though I share her with a village of people, she is my special girl to introduce to the wonderful world of Kindergarten. And I will find a way to do it.