Dealing With Saying Good-bye

Posted on April 11, 2009
Filed Under Child Development, Child Sexual Abuse, Household Tips, My Experiences | Leave a Comment

Whenever we say good-bye to our loved ones we hardly give it much thought. We take it for granted that we would be reunited again. But for young children, separation distress is huge for them. I have observed it in my own children; even my 11-year old daughter still waves as I reverse the car out of the porch and continues till I am out of sight! I allow her the space to do this as I understand it is her way to cope with saying good-bye.

My childhood friend, Rayvathy never failed to say “I will go and come back” in Tamil to her mother as she walked with me to school. In reply, her mother would say, “Go and come back.” I heard it so often, I could still say those phrases over 20 years later. It seems an appropriate way to say good-bye. Although I have never taught it to my children, for some reason, my four-year old son has taken to standing next to his sister to wave good-bye to me and call out, “You come back later okay?” It has become his mantra.

It never quite occurred to me how big a challenge is saying good-bye for children until I worked with a globally-developmental delayed five-year old a few months ago. It became apparent how that difficulty was “acted out in inappropriate manner”; usually termed as tantruming or having a “meltdown”.

My son used to insist I sent him right up to his classroom. The good-bye would only happen after he has changed his pair of shoes (the children have to wear another pair of “indoor” shoes upon arrival), place his notebook (used as a communication book between parents and teachers) on the teacher’s desk, park his water tumbler at a designated corner and hang up his little knapsack.

After 10 weeks of school, I decided to nudge my son towards another mini milestone: to say good-bye at the school lobby. Since day four when school first began in January, most four-year olds were dropped off at the lobby where they would remove their shoes and walk themselves to their classrooms. My son hadn’t been ready for this. I tried it once; I asked him if I could drop him instead of walk him to the classroom. There was silence. I asked him to give it a try. Reluctantly he said yes. Unfortunately, the teachers on duty that day were unfamiliar to him and they greeted him in Mandarin and Malay. He hollered unashamedly as I drove off. I had to park my car and walk him to his classroom.

A few days later, I asked him again. He looked stressed. He sat very still when the teacher opened the car door for him. I told him to get down and I would come to him after I parked the car. He got off but wailed again.

The next week, we tried again. He put on a brave face. Fortunately, the teachers on duty were familiar to him. Then he quickly asked me which way to his classroom. “Turn left as you walk in. If you are not sure, just ask okay?” I said. He nodded and repeated, “turn left” and hopped off as a teacher came forward to help him. He didn’t wave. I guessed he must have been pre-occupied with the flurry of activity around him; the teachers were greeting him and there were other kids sitting on the steps removing their shoes. It didn’t occur to me that I had used a different entrance when I walked him to his classroom. No wonder he was being apprehensive about his sense of direction.

The following day, I asked if I could drop him off again. He said yes more confidently. As we approached the lobby, I asked if he remembered to bring his “good manners” with him. “Yes, I got it”, he replied. Previously he would be tongue-tied whenever his teachers offered him a greeting. I would usually say softly in his ear, “Oops, you forgot to bring your good manners. Don’t forget to bring them with you okay?”

For the past few days, each time I asked if I could say good-bye at the lobby, he would say, “Mummy, yes, you can always do that. Always. And, I also remember to bring my good manners with me.”

I beamed happily.

“Why are you smiling, Mummy?”

“Oh, I feel very happy to hear that I can always drop you off at the lobby. It means that you have grown up a little,” I said hugging him. He rewarded me with a broad grin.

So for my son, the difficulty of saying good-bye for him was further compounded by his awareness of his inability to communicate in foreign languages and a host of other new experiences. This understanding didn’t occur to me until I began to reflect on my work with my five-year old student. As his teacher cum therapist, I was ever so mindful of all my responses and reactions to him during my nine-hour per week sessions with him. Due to his challenges, I could see very clearly all the antecedent factors leading to his “meltdowns” (tantrums). Working with this boy required my full awareness of his moment-to-moment responses and reactions. Although I only worked with him for a short term of three months, the experience and lessons I learnt were worth a lifetime for me. In reality, he was my teacher.

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