MIND MOVES: The first day at school is memorable. It is a big event. A rite of passage. It is the transition from infancy into childhood. For some children, it is the first parting from parental care into the care of others. For other children, it is a step along the continuum of crèche, playschool or preschool into BIG school. For everyone, it is significant.
The first day the first child dons a uniform, both an ache of pride and a flicker of sadness mark the moment. It is the first "walking away" in what will be a series of departures between parent and child until the final departure into independent life.
Perhaps at some deep level, parents and children know that this first step is for ever, so they weep for each other in unconscious, unspoken, anticipated grief.
It is right, therefore, that this first day at school gets media attention with tearful tots fronting the newspapers. But there is another first day at school of equal and immense importance that gets neglected. That is the first day at secondary school.
This is one of the most important educational transitions. Imany cases, whether or not a young person will sink or swim in the educational system depends upon how they make this transition. The child entering secondary school stands upon another threshold - a chrysalis time wherein the child who enters emerges in adult form.
Yet, this time there are no cameras to record the parting, there may be no accompanying parent to mark the passage and there may be insufficient recognition of the multitude of new, complex and critical demands that will be made of the child.
Moving into secondary school is not "simply" moving up a school year. The easiest transition into second level is probably for those who move from the junior to the secondary section of their own school. For them, the uniform, the location, the milieu and cohort of friends may not change. Those with older siblings also have "protectors" and guides: the informal informants of how to survive and thrive at this next stage.
For many, secondary school is a huge change. Gone is the individual class teacher, with a special understanding of each pupil. Gone is the one classroom in which most activities were conducted. Gone are many of the childhood pals. Gone is the status of "big fish in little pond" to being the smallest 'fry' in often overwhelmingly large student numbers. Gone may be the walk to a local school replaced by an earlier, frazzled rush by bus or car.
From an academic perspective, the basics of "reeling and writhing", which are so difficult for the unidentified "dyslexic" child, are compounded by new subjects requiring extra abstract cognitive skills. Reading is no longer a subject in itself: it is now for content. Writing or dysgraphic difficulties may look like carelessness.
The congenitally disorganised child may wander corridors looking for classes, utterly confused. Classically, books and bus fare, lunch and PE gear lie at home forgotten. Books for homework are left at school and books for school at home while producing homework for different teachers on the different days defeats entirely.
Indeed, first-year students encounter a variety of new subjects being taught by teachers of different temperaments, teaching styles, expectations and strictness. These are teachers who do not yet know them and to whom they must prove their worth in front of an unknown collection of peers whom they need to befriend.
New parent-child dynamics also begin, so that parental help with homework, which previously may have supported the less-studious child, may now be replaced with an expectation that study is self-managed.
Class and term exams may uncover hidden academic disabilities although sometimes, new talents, interests, skills and motivations may also magically appear.
First-year students are distinguished by their amazing assortment of shapes and sizes in often ill-fitting uniforms ("sure you'll grow into it") at one of the most sensitive life stages, encountering puberty, body-image, vanity, intellectual capacity and sexuality under peer and adult scrutiny. This is often the time of spots and greasy hair, glasses and braces and raging hormones in an unco-operative body housing an over-active mind. This is not easy.
First year in secondary school is an exceptionally high risk time to be bullied, to be depressed, to be academically overwhelmed, psychologically distressed, emotionally depleted, physically exhausted and spiritually anguished.
Those already vulnerable are more at risk in this transition. Of course, many meet the challenge with the courage and enthusiasm that is the hallmark of the young. Others suffer because we do not see just how hard it is for them.
First day at secondary school may not have the front-cover cuteness of the first school day but these young people require our attention and understanding.
Just because they cannot cry visibly does not mean that they are not scared inside.
• Marie Murray is director of psychology at St Vincent's Hospital, Fairview, Dublin and author of Surviving The Leaving Cert: Points for Parents published by Veritas.