They say, oh my god, I see the way you shine – Take your hand, my dear, and place them both in mine
You know you stopped me dead while I was passing by – And now I beg to see you dance just one more time.
These lyrics from 'Dance Monkey' drift from my daughter's attic room—once a junk space, now her study spot. She's singing along perfectly while tackling homework. This is our reality during her shift from primary school to high school's first year.
My daughter began high school this year—a major milestone. To me, it felt monumental. She? Not so much. I was more excited than she was. On day one, she confidently biked to school with all supplies ready and books covered. The commute is longer now, but she's not alone; a primary school friend joins her for this big step.
Table of contents
Day 1? "Nice. As fun as school gets!" That evening, she packed for camp without fuss. Day 2: four days, three nights away. No phone, all new classmates. No mom.
She was thrilled. I was anxious. But I kept it together: "This camp will be amazing, honey. Enjoy!" She did—immensely. No updates like primary school's group 8 camp; silence tested me. "Is she okay? Connected? They'd call if needed." A glass of Sauvignon and self-talk helped. Thursday's photo postcard? Pure joy. She glowed.
She returned hoarse, exhausted, ecstatic. No homesickness, just fun.
First weeks stunned me. Primary homework was casual; now, she dives in post-school, studies for tests. My tip: "Do homework right away, then relax." Stellar results, new friends, outings to Toverland Halloween, city shopping, McDonald's. I miss knowing her old friends deeply, but new ones visit alongside them. Quite the adjustment.
She revels in her newfound freedom. I watch her grow, enjoying it all. This transition earned my full trust. We set clear rules on behavior, values, consequences—she gets it. She shares worries and questions (not everything, and that's fine). I hope it continues.
Test week loomed; my inner supermom emerged. "Need a schedule? Help studying? Soup? Fruit? Practice quiz?"
"Mom, chill. School's short days; I've got time. I'll eat when hungry." Soup uneaten, I adjusted. She aced it independently. Average dipped slightly from prior highs, but excellent first-period results. Proud mom moment.
Initial excitement waned, but grades hold strong. She tests limits without crossing them. No morning grumbles, even in shortening days and storms. She bikes with classmates through it all.
Her growth since primary school is remarkable—she's handled it beautifully. Me? I've learned to release control. No daily Magister logins for grades or forgotten books. Even with a first low mark, she owns it. She's resilient, honest. I'm incredibly proud.
Knocking on her door, music plays. I enter, singing: "Ooh I see you, see you, see you every time / And, oh my, I, I, I like your style / You, you make me, make me, make me wanna cry / And now I beg to see you dance just one more time."
No teasing my voice. She grabs the laundry, kisses me: "Mom, soup please?"
Sure, honey.
