The ritual of return: Why backtoschool season matters

A picture of students going back to school.[File, Standard]

Schools have reopened after the August school holiday for the final learning session of this year.

The first day back is never just about sharpened pencils and polished shoes. It is about parents juggling fees and emotions, children crossing psychological thresholds, and communities resetting their rhythm. In lived voices from across Kenya, families reveal how back‑to‑school season is both burden and blessing, a bridge from the comfort of the familiar to the promise of growth.

The first morning back is always a paradox. In Meru, Esther Muriungi, a mother of two girls, ties her daughter’s shoelaces with a mixture of pride and pressure. “Uniforms are expensive, books are never enough, and school fees hang over your head like a cloud,” she admits.

Yet when she walks her children to school, there’s a flicker of triumph. “It is a small victory,” she says, the kind of victory parents quietly collect, even when the ledger of costs feels endless.

In Ngong, Bosire Mugaka has learned to turn the chaos into ritual. “I make it a father‑child fun day out,” he laughs. Gikomba market becomes a treasure hunt for affordable shoes, Eastleigh a stop for chips and chicken. His children, 12-year-old Nick and nine-year-old Fiona, see preparation not as a burden but as adventure. The laughter over greasy fingers softens the sting of money worries.

For single parents, the season carries heavier weight. In Isiolo, Halima Abdi notices her daughter’s stomach aches each term. “She gets tense because I get tense,” Halima says.

“So now I talk to her openly instead of keeping quiet.”

The back‑to‑school season is not just about fees and books; it is about emotional mirrors: the way children absorb parental anxieties and reflect them back.

“Children live this season intensely. Boarding school pupils know they will miss their families,” says family coach Catherine Mugendi.

Nine‑year‑old Brian Otuoma confesses, “I miss my parents, siblings and friends, but most of all, I hate waking up early.”

His Sunday school teacher has taught him to focus on the positive. “I am excited because I got new shoes this term,” he says, smiling through the nerves.

For the littlest ones, belonging matters more than academics.

“I just want to see if my friend Amina is still in my class.” Naliaka Kamunge, a six‑year‑old from CITAM Ngong, whispers her hope in Sunday School.

That longing for continuity, and for familiar faces in unfamiliar transitions, is the heartbeat of childhood.

Child psychologist David Mutua calls these moments “psychological thresholds.” Moving from home routine to school routine is change at every level: emotional, physical, social, and mental.

How parents handle the crossing sets the tone for confidence. Teachers echo this. Mark Kiprono, a headteacher in Eldoret, says children need one to two weeks to settle.

“Some struggle with concentration, others are homesick. The best support comes when parents prepare them gradually: sleep routines, reading, conversations about what to expect,” he explains.

However, back‑to‑school is not only about children. Parents themselves shift gears. After weeks of relaxed mornings and late‑night movies, they return to the 5 a.m. grind. For some, the burden is financial, juggling fees, transport, extracurriculars. For others, it is emotional, letting go as children step into independence.

“Parents should give themselves grace. When parents show calm confidence, children mirror that energy,” Mutua advises.

The ritual is communal too. Matatu stages swell, bookshops buzz, tailors stitch late into the night. The bustle is more than commerce; it is the collective hum of a society resetting its rhythm. Schools are not just classrooms; they are safe spaces, feeding programs, mental health support, extracurricular lifelines. They are the village that raises a child.

Mugendi says the back‑to‑school ritual is also about resilience, as parents, despite the strain, find ways to celebrate small wins.

Esther calls it “a small victory” when her children step into class in fresh uniforms. Bosire in Ngong reframes shopping as adventure, while Halima in Isiolo turns her daughter’s anxiety into conversation.

These, says Mugendi, are not grand gestures, but they are the scaffolding of family life, the quiet ways parents teach children that transitions, though daunting, can be managed.

Children, too, discover their own coping strategies. Nick and Fiona cling to the joy of hanging out with their father. Six‑year‑old Naliaka clings to the hope of seeing Amina. These fragments of joy are anchors. They remind parents and guardians that school is not only about academics, but about belonging, identity, and the courage to face change.

Mutua says schools, meanwhile, carry the weight of community. Free meals, mental health services, extracurricular programs. These, he explains, are lifelines.

“They remind parents that education is not a solitary pursuit but a collective investment, and when parents show calm confidence, children mirror that energy, and when schools show up with support, families breathe easier,” he explains.

Back‑to‑school, then, is not just a season. It is a threshold, a communal crossing, a reminder that growth always begins with a step into the unknown.

So, each August, families cross the bridge from the comfort of the familiar to the promise of growth. Preparation, empathy, and support become the planks beneath their feet. The walk is never easy, but it is always necessary.