First day of school

Angharad Brown - 9 Sep 15

It is 1984 and it’s my first day of school. I am not really sure what starting school means, but I am excited because I have new shoes. My Mum stays with me and I cling to her hand. There are other children there, but I don’t know them yet. Our teacher has been at the school for years and has probably taught all five of my older siblings at various times.

We are in a prefab terrapin classroom set apart from the main building. Outside the door is a space for where our crate of morning milk will be put. We will learn to race against each other at break time, so we can choose milk that hasn’t had the silver top pecked through by a greedy magpie wanting the cream. In winter we will arrive at school bundled in our coats and scarves, our mittens threaded on a string through our coat sleeves so we won’t lose them.The scars I have on my knees are from falling all too often in this concrete yard. I will stay at this school until I move on to secondary school and I will love my time here.

This September, thirty one years after my first day, it is my oldest daughter’s turn to start school. I feel, probably like many parents, that this day has come too quickly and I’m not quite ready. There are other feelings though that I am not prepared for, because this is not the first day of school I had imagined for her.

I had thought she would go to a school like mine or like her Dad’s, where she would stay until she went to secondary school. She would spend her breaks playing in the schoolyard and we would see her grow up from the smallest to the biggest. She would make friends at this school that she might know for the rest of her life. This is not how it will be.

For her there will be no prefab classroom at the end of a concrete schoolyard, no milk at break time, nor mittens in winter. In fact, there will be no cold winter. She will start school in the year round sun of a Caribbean island surrounded by the turquoise blue sea. Her school is a series of wooden huts under the shade of tall trees, where chickens roam freely and monkeys are regular visitors. It is a world away from that concrete schoolyard in Sheffield that I played in, or the one where her Dad spent his break times in Northern Ireland. This will be her first school, but not the only one she will go to. We are a diplomatic family, so for the next few years at least we will be moving around the world. Who knows in which country she will go to school next.

It is all so unknown to me and I admit that, despite knowing what an amazing opportunity and experience it is for her, I am scared. My daughter, however, is not. She is just as excited about starting ‘big school’ as I was. She likes her school uniform which consists of a sleeveless dress with checked bloomers (yes really!) and the novelty of wearing socks instead of bare feet and she’s pretty happy about the chickens too. However, the thing she is most excited about are her new smart black shoes, just like I was. It’s just possible the memories she will have of her first day of school may not be so different from my own after all.

Angharad Brown

Freelance digital content specialist and also now a 'trailing spouse' living in the Caribbean, looking after my two daughters aged four and one.

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