End of an era

It’s the end of an era. Last day of the summer term. Picked my son up from his primary school for the last time. Ever!

When he was two he used to toddle in to the playground with me to drop his sister off. She was four, and had just started in Reception. I recall one day in winter there was a sheet of black ice across the playground. I slipped on it and fell on my toddler’s head. There was much crying, but fortunately he was OK, as was I.

My little boy started nursery at that school at three, and went into reception aged four. He will soon be eight, so the association with the school has been almost six years. Such a huge amount of one’s childhood.

In December I took my daughter out of school to home educate as the school didn’t suit her. It is impossible to hammer a beautiful star into a square-shaped hole without battering and breaking the star. I want my little star to be able to grow and thrive and remain a star, unbroken. My son later made the decision that he would also like to be home-educated. So we’ll give it a try.

That’s why it seems the end of an era. It has been a long and lovely association with the school. Many of the staff have done their best to be as helpful and supportive as they could be. I felt emotional today as I knew it was our last day and we will not be returning in September. I had to write a card and buy them a huge tin of Quality Street.