Why Is My Kid Only Getting Nervous for Freshman Year Now? Practical Tips for Parents
Last night, I was folding Lila’s soccer practice shorts on her bed when she said it. She was half-scrolling TikTok, half-arguing with her little brother over who got the last popsicle, and it just came out, quiet enough I almost missed it: “Not sure why but I’m just now getting nervous for freshman year.”
Three days out from the first day of high school. We’d checked every box over the summer: orientation, schedule pick up, new backpack, soccer tryout sign ups, even that special first day outfit she’d begged for back in June. For two months, she’d bounced between excitement and annoyance when I asked if she had any questions. I was the one who’d spent 20 minutes last month watching a YouTube video about how to open a combination locker, just in case. I thought she was the chill one.
I sat down on the end of the bed and set the laundry aside. She twisted the frayed edge of her comforter, the one she’s had since fifth grade, and said it didn’t make sense. She’d had fun at orientation, she knew three other kids from her middle school who were going here, she’d already made plans to sit with them at lunch. But that morning, when she was putting her new supplies into her backpack, it just hit her: none of this is the old normal. Her go-to homeroom spot from eighth grade is gone, her favorite teacher who let her eat crackers in class isn’t there, her best friend since second grade got put in a different lunch period, and suddenly all the little things that felt like adventures back in June just feel big and scary.
I used to substitute teach in our local high school for three years before my second kid was born, so I’ve seen this before. Parents would email me a week into the school year saying their kid was fine all summer, why are they suddenly having stomach aches every morning, why won’t they go? It’s not that kids are hiding their anxiety, or that something went wrong. It’s just how our brains work with big transitions. All summer, freshman year is this abstract thing. It’s a checklist of things to get done, a fun new chapter to daydream about. It doesn’t feel real until it’s 72 hours away, when you’re packing your backpack and you realize the old routine is actually over. It’s normal for the nervousness to show up late, not when you expect it.
I didn’t say “oh don’t be silly, everything will be fine.” I’ve learned that just makes people feel like their feelings are stupid. Instead, I pulled out my phone and said, let’s do this: tell me the dumbest thing you’re worried about, then the scariest. That’s a trick I picked up from the school counselor I worked with, it’s small but it works. It pulls all the messy nervous thoughts out into the open, instead of them bouncing around unseen in your head.
She thought for a second, said the dumbest one is that she’ll trip over her own feet walking into math class and spill her iced coffee all over the teacher’s desk. The scariest one is that everyone will already have friend groups, and she’ll end up eating lunch alone in a bathroom stall like all the TikTok videos she’s seen. I didn’t argue with either. I just wrote them down, then we wrote down two tiny, specific back-up plans for if any of that actually happens.
First: if lunch feels awkward, or she’s alone, she can leave 10 minutes early and go hang out in the library. She saw the entire new graphic novel section at orientation, so she already has a reason to be there that doesn’t feel like running away. Second: if she gets lost between classes, or just needs a minute to breathe, she can go to the main office and ask for Ms. Rita, the secretary who gave her a cherry lollipop at orientation. Ms. Rita already knows her name, so that’s not a random stranger she has to talk to.
After that, she asked if we could drive over to the high school and walk around the outside again, just to find her locker and her math room entrance again. We did that, and stopped for soft serve on the way home. By the time we got back, she’d changed out of the new crop top she’d planned to wear on the first day and into her oversized Nirvana hoodie, the one with a hole in the elbow that she’s had since eighth grade. She said it felt safer. That’s another small thing I’ve started telling other parents: if they want to ditch the fancy new first day outfit for something worn in, let them. Comfort beats cute when you’re already keyed up.
It’s two days before school now. Lila still jokes about hiding in the bathroom if lunch goes wrong. She still gets quiet for a minute when she looks at her new schedule taped to her desk. I don’t know if the first week will be perfect. There will probably be days she comes home crying, or calls me from the office to pick her up early. I used to think my job was to get rid of her nervousness before school started. Now I know that doesn’t work, especially when it shows up late out of nowhere.
What I can do is let her talk about it without fixing it, give her a couple of small, concrete plans she can use if things feel too big, and leave her old frayed comforter on her bed for when she comes home to tell me about it. It’s not a perfect fix, but it’s enough for right now.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » Why Is My Kid Only Getting Nervous for Freshman Year Now