Dr. Sharon Gainforth* | NeuroAI Team
School is just around the corner.
And every year around this time, I find myself remembering what August used to feel like when my children were in school.
I was never very good at the transition from summer to fall.
I loved summer.
Our schedules loosened. We ate when we were hungry. We swam when we felt like swimming. We spent much of the summer camping, which meant we practically lived outside.
There were bathing suits hanging from everything. Towels that never seemed to dry. Bare feet. Campfires. Late dinners. Kids running around until they were tired enough to finally fall into bed.
I am sure there were mosquitoes, arguments, rainy days and plenty of moments when I wondered why on earth we thought camping with children was a good idea.
But when I look back, that isn’t what I remember most.
I remember the freedom.
And I remember being together.
Then September arrived.
Suddenly there were alarm clocks again.
There were lunches to pack, school bags to find, forms to sign and places everyone needed to be at very specific times.
Basketball started.
Music practice returned.
The calendar filled up.
And somewhere in there, summer quietly disappeared.
I remember the first day of school particularly well.
I would drive my kids to school and watch them disappear through those doors, carrying backpacks that somehow always looked much too big for them.
Then I would drive home.
On the way, I would pass the local coffee shops.
They would be filled with mothers.
They were drinking coffee, talking and laughing, apparently celebrating the return of school and a little bit of freedom.
I understood it.
I really did.
But I wasn’t one of them.
I was the mother who went through the drive-through, got her coffee, drove to a nearby beach…
and cried.
Every year.
I missed them.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to go to school. Of course I did.
I wanted them to learn. I wanted them to have friends and teachers who saw something wonderful in them. I wanted them to discover things that had nothing to do with me.
But I also knew something had ended.
Another summer was over.
And perhaps, even then, I understood something I couldn’t quite put into words: there are only so many summers when your children live at home.
We talk a lot about preparing children for the transition back to school.
And we should.
For many children, especially children who find change difficult, the shift from the slower rhythm of summer into the expectations of school can be enormous. Suddenly there are earlier mornings, bus rides, busy classrooms, social demands, different sensory environments and far less control over how the day unfolds.
That transition deserves care.
But I wonder if sometimes we forget that parents go through a transition too.
The rhythm of the whole family changes.
And transitions—even good ones—can carry a little grief with them.
We can be excited about what is beginning and still feel sad about what is ending.
We can be proud as our children walk confidently into school and still sit in the car for a moment after they leave.
We can want them to grow and, at exactly the same time, wish we could slow it all down.
Both things can be true.
My children are grown now.
There are no school lunches waiting to be packed in my kitchen. No basketball practices to coordinate. No frantic searches for the missing shoe five minutes before we need to leave.
And, remarkably, nobody needs me to sign a permission slip at 10:30 at night.
There are things about those September mornings I certainly don’t miss.
But those summers?
I would take one of those summers back in a heartbeat.
So if school is around the corner and you find yourself feeling something you weren’t expecting, perhaps you don’t need to talk yourself out of it.
Maybe you are simply noticing the passage of time.
Maybe you loved the slower mornings.
Maybe you loved having your children nearby.
Maybe you’re ready for school to begin and you’re going to miss them terribly.
Get the coffee.
And if you need to sit somewhere quiet for a little while after drop-off, do that too.
Apparently, some mothers celebrate the first day of school over coffee with friends.
And some of us take ours to the beach and have a little cry.
I think there is room for both.
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* Dr. Sharon Gainforth is a Speech-Language Pathologist with over 35 years of expertise as a subject matter expert on Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). She is also the Chief Business Development Officer, Chief Content Officer and Co-Founder of NeuroAI.
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