Learning to Let My Daughter Go

How I learned to let go of my middle schooler, a little bit at a time.
 

I cannot believe that my little girl is starting eighth grade, her final year of middle school. Where has the time gone? The days when I would tag along on the walk to school in the mornings are just about over. I may have squeezed my last “I’ll take you and your friends for pizza” out of her. I can only hope I have done my job and prepared her well for the road on which we are now embarking.

When my daughter was going into sixth grade, just starting middle school, parents of older children in New York City told me that many kids start traveling alone, without an adult, sometime during the middle school years. The thought of this absolutely terrified me: the strangers, the cars, the bikers. I knew I had to start preparing her to navigate the streets without me by her side.

In the beginning of sixth grade I made a very conscious effort to start making her aware of everything I could think of on the route to school—and even scare her a little bit. We discussed which streets had turning signals, what side of the street the liquor store is on, how to wait until the bikers stop before crossing the street, and so much more. I did this over and over and over again for months, just like a broken record. Finally it was time to let her guide the way. “Tell me what to do, when to cross, where to stand,” I told her. By the end of the sixth grade, she was walking home from school without an adult. 

As we moved to seventh grade, I suspected she would have even more of a zest for independence. To that point, she’d only gone to and from school by herself. Now she wanted to go to friends’ apartments, the movies, the frozen yogurt shop. How was I going to deal with this? I really needed to think about the next steps.

Since she was not necessarily going to be staying in our neighborhood, we talked about the choices of transportation in the city—buses, subways, Ubers. There are so many options, but we needed to figure out what would make us both feel safe and comfortable. I got her the Uber app for her phone, and I make sure she always has a MetroCard with funds on it. We both agreed that walking should be her first choice if the distance is not too far. We talked about safe places she could duck into if she ever felt it was necessary for any reason at all, such as Starbucks, Duane Reade, or CVS, places with which she is familiar and are very easy to find. She assured me, “Mom, I can do this. I’ll be fine.” I must admit, her confidence was somewhat reassuring; however, deep down, I was dying just a little bit. She was still my little girl, and I would worry no matter what.