Jackie McGregor: The end of primary school days is a step back on the parenting stage

The memory of my son’s last day at primary school will be forever etched in my mind.

For the rest of my life, I doubt I’ll be able to hear the song, ‘A Million Dreams’, without tearing up. It conjures up memories of my son and his classmates, stood on the school assembly stage that day, belting out the lyrics. It hit me hard then, it was the end of an era.

I looked around the familiar faces I’d shared the past seven years with. The faint smell of school dinners hung in the air. I remembered the first day we had arrived for primary one, my son’s little hand firmly ensconced in mine, both of us filled with trepidation.

I recalled the nativity plays, the sports days, finding costumes for World Book Day, the apprehension of preparing for the Transfer Test, and the horrible viruses that used to spread like wildfire.

Now, in a flash, we had come to the end of this sometimes stressful, yet rather magical road. Now we were on a new journey, to grammar school, but it was no longer we, it was just him. He was about to start flying solo, my stomach knotted at the thought.

The first day he left to take public transport to, ‘big’ school, I was filled with dread, he’d never travelled alone before. I waved him off cheerily, then sobbed my heart out with anxiety when he left. I stood at an upstairs window like a faithful dog awaiting his return and felt like I didn’t exhale until he was home safely. It was then that I realised that my son’s hand was metaphorically slipping from mine, and that parenthood is a gradual process of detachment.

The transition into secondary school can be difficult for both parent and child, though in our case, it was easier for my son than me. He adjusted with ease, I felt redundant.

Part of me was a little sad that he didn’t seem to need me, though I congratulated myself for that. He successfully handled a bully in his first week. My son was proving more than capable of standing on his own two feet. I was being phased out of the starring role in his life, but that’s how it should be, we must give our children roots and wings. Now, several years later, he has just completed his A-Levels and stands on the cusp of his 18th birthday, soon to become an adult. Time has flown!

I have often recalled over the years, my son and his classmates standing on that stage on the final day of primary school, singing of the world they were going to make. The memory has become a symbolic image of parenting in my mind.

Parental detachment is like standing on a stage along with your child. As they gradually begin to grow in confidence and beef up their roles in life, parents slowly edge off centre stage, until we become the supporting cast. Eventually, we find ourselves standing in the wings of their lives, shouting, “bravo!” excitedly at their achievements, as we set them free to pursue a million dreams.

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