Yesterday was Jack’s last day of Year 2. His last day at the school that’s shaped so much of his early years. Four years with incredible teachers, classrooms that felt like safe havens, routines that became rhythms for all of us.
And while I was the one getting teary at pick-up, along with more than a few mums blinking back tears, Jack? He was skipping out with a balloon in one hand, excitedly telling me which songs they’d danced to that morning, already planning his post-school grilled cheese at Shake Shack before dashing off to a pool playdate in his new Nike Air Jordans – his reward for a brilliant year-end report.
When Kids Show Us How to Handle Transitions
Kids take new chapters in their stride. They might feel the nerves, sure, but they don’t let it swallow the excitement. They don’t overthink it. They don’t spiral about what it means for their identity, their plans, their goals for the next decade (can’t relate, personally). They feel it, then they move, curious about what’s next.
It’s made me realise how much we, as adults, need to unlearn the fear we attach to new chapters. We label change as hard, heavy, even threatening. We cling to the familiar and brace ourselves for the worst. But watching Jack, it’s clear: new chapters are exciting. They’re worth celebrating, even in small, ordinary ways. A balloon. A grilled cheese sandwich. A new pair of shoes. V-Bucks saved up for a skin he’s had his eye on for weeks. These small celebrations matter, and they’re enough.
And I hope that one day, when he’s older, he’ll realise that we saw these moments for what they were. We made the most of them. That we were there, picking him up on the last day, free to do so because we now both work for ourselves, able to carve out these moments in our day. That we saw the magic in them, even if he didn’t at the time.
Rethinking Education for 2025’s Reality
As we move into Year 3 at a new school, closer to home, I’ve been thinking a lot about the education system. About what we’re teaching our kids in 2025. Because while I’m incredibly proud of Jack’s academic achievements (and honestly, he’s a sharp one), I can’t help but feel we’re stuck teaching many of the same things I learnt nearly 40 years ago.
We’re following the British curriculum, and sure, we need to learn to read, write, and understand how democracies were shaped. But he spent a whole term on Ernest Shackleton, the Antartica explorer. Is that the most relevant figure for his future? Is that the kind of explorer he needs to be inspired by for what’s ahead in his world? In a time when we have AI evolving daily, environmental crises that need bright minds and brave ideas, economies shifting, and entire industries transforming in real time, shouldn’t we also be teaching them about the thinkers, leaders, and innovators they can learn from today? Shouldn’t we be showing them what creativity, resilience, and problem-solving look like in a world where they’ll need to navigate change faster than we ever did?
Screen Time Myths and Modern Learning
Jack’s growing up in a world where typing a question into a search bar is already old-fashioned. Voice search is his default. AI chats are normal. He’s using CapCut (thankfully, as I hate video editing), building worlds in Minecraft that stretch his logic and creativity, and designing posters in Canva alongside me in the office. He’s not just playing; he’s learning to solve, build, test, fail, and try again.
And maybe, just maybe, the “screen time is evil” narrative needs a refresh. Because while we all want balance, some of the skills our kids are building on screens are going to serve them far more than we give credit for. Watching him figure out how to edit a video for his own little projects, seeing him design his own flyers, hearing him ask AI questions about the world – it makes me realise that the world he’s preparing for is different, and it’s our job to prepare him, not scare him away from it.
Following Their Lead on New Beginnings
Kids don’t see new chapters as a reason to fear or resist. They’re naturally curious, adaptable, and excited for what’s next. Maybe it’s us who need to follow their lead a bit more.
As we step into this new season, I’m reminding myself: new chapters deserve celebration, not stress. And sometimes, the best celebrations are small moments shared over a grilled cheese sandwich, a balloon in hand, and the soft satisfaction that comes with picking him up on his last day, knowing we’re here, together, making the most of every chapter as it comes.
