Easing Back: Summer's End, School's Start

It happens every year, like clockwork. The collective sigh of relief as June winds down, and then… that creeping unease in late August. It's not just the parents feeling it, either. You see it on their faces when they drop them off for orientations – a little too much effort put into outfits that look brand new, forced smiles clinging to lips that want to be somewhere else entirely. And I see it mirrored in my room 214 kids, already pushing back on the slightest hint of structure after two months of sun and freedom.

This year felt particularly intense. The summer stretched out long and easy for me, a needed breather after that first year teaching fourth grade. Lots of time spent at my grandmother’s kitchen table in Fishtown, actually finishing up her Sunday gravy recipe - something she started years ago, and which I finally managed to get *right*. It was a slow process – simmering for hours, adjusting seasonings with tiny pinches, just enough to make the difference. You can't rush those things. And that’s how getting kids ready for school is too, really. There’s no shortcut.

The problem isn’t so much about academics, though everyone worries about that. It’s the return of the *structure*. The sudden requirement to wake up at a specific time. To eat breakfast in under fifteen minutes. To sit still and focus when they’ve spent weeks wandering wherever their curiosity takes them. I remember being a kid myself – my cousins and I would build elaborate forts out of blankets and furniture, losing track of time completely until someone's mom yelled that dinner was ready. That kind of freedom is… important. And taking it away abruptly? It creates resistance.

My niece, Sofia, is a prime example. She’s got the energy of a hummingbird on caffeine. All summer long she was running around in Delaware County with her cousins, building mud pies and chasing fireflies. Now, try telling that little girl she has to be out of bed by seven, showered, and ready for school before the sun's even fully up. She throws herself on the floor, wails about how unfair it is… and honestly? Sometimes I feel like yelling right along with her.

The thing is, kids aren’t being difficult just to be difficult. They're feeling a sense of loss. It isn't some grand philosophical drama – they just miss the ease, the lack of demands. And when you try to force something that feels fundamentally wrong, that resistance gets stronger. So what do you do? You don’t bulldoze through it. You ease into it. We started gently with Sofia a couple weeks ago, gradually adjusting her bedtime by fifteen minutes each night. It wasn’t magic; there were still tears and tantrums. But it was less of an explosion than if we’d sprung the new schedule on her full force.

Sleep is key – I tell every parent I know that. You can't expect a kid to function properly when they are consistently sleep-deprived. It affects everything, from their mood to their ability to concentrate in class. And mornings? The morning routine doesn’t need to be an ordeal. Lay out clothes the night before. Pack lunches together – even if it takes a little longer than you'd like. Anything that can eliminate some of those small decisions and potential friction points.

It’s also about understanding that there’s underlying anxiety at play sometimes. Kids pick up on parental stress, they feel it in the air. If *you’re* dreading school starting – worried about tests or grades or fitting in - they're going to sense that too. Try talking about what you’re looking forward to, not just what you’re concerned about. Maybe there’s a new after-school club they want to join, or a field trip they’re excited about. Find something positive to focus on.

This isn’t about creating perfect little robots who march through their days with flawless obedience. It's about building habits – routines that create a sense of security and predictability. That structure allows space for the things kids really need: time to play, time to explore, time to just *be*. And maybe, just maybe, it allows parents a little bit of peace too. This year, with my own summer drawing to a close in Fishtown – finally getting that gravy right – I’m ready to breathe deep and start again.