For years, the walk to the school gate was part of my morning routine. Sometimes it was good fun. We’d chat about anything and everything from what was for tea, a random fact one of them had picked up, or something completely off the wall that made us all laugh. Those walks could start anywhere and end anywhere, and they’re some of my favourite memories.
Other mornings were harder. One or more of the girls wouldn’t want to go in. You could feel it building as we got closer to the gate the slower steps, the silence, the look that told me things weren’t okay. I’d hear things like “they don’t like me” or “I don’t like it there.” And as a parent, you find yourself walking a difficult line between understanding how they feel and still wanting them to go in, to have a good day, to enjoy learning.
There were days when the line of the gate felt like a wall. Crossing it took so much more than anyone watching might realise. You tell yourself it’s just another morning, but it isn’t. Some days it’s a negotiation, other days it’s heartbreak. And then there are those rare mornings when it just works when they go in with a smile, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.
I often think back to my own time at school. I didn’t hate learning, in fact, I think I enjoy it more now than ever, but I didn’t enjoy how I was being taught. It felt rigid, impersonal, and not built for how I understood the world. So when one of my kids says they don’t want to go in, part of me gets it. How can I tell them to go through the same thing I struggled with?
That’s something we don’t talk about enough, that learning should feel different now. It should be about helping children enjoy discovery in a way that makes sense to them. It should be about meeting them where they are, not making them fit into a box that doesn’t suit them.
These walks to the school gate have changed over the years. The girls are older now, and we’ve found a rhythm that works better for them. But I still think about all the families who are standing at those gates each morning, doing their best to balance encouragement with understanding. It’s not easy. But every small step forward, even the wobbly ones, really does matter.
