It's a form of wake that every parent goes through at least once; getting used to a temporary migration from the home each September. While your child may not be leaping on a plane to another country, that initial journey between home and the first day at school can seem at least as far in emotional terms.

The first day at school is a classic image in photograph albums, and the one picture that's most likely to survive the purges of clear-outs over the years. It's the Janus-type photo beloved by mammies and daddies, a record of that first symbolic step into the wider world; while also doubling as the embarrassing icebreaker photo later on, which new girlfriends and boyfriends are guaranteed to fall about laughing at when they start visiting their other half's family home.

The word summer is a misnomer, but whatever it means it's pretty well over. All over Ireland next week lunchboxes will be filled up again and bags dusted off, and uniforms will reemerge from the darkest recesses of wardrobes. Forget January and the associated New Year rituals. For the school-going population of Ireland, the year begins each September.

"Plaits and bows." These are the strongest memories Regina Glynn has of her own first day at school, some decades past. "There were four girls in our family and I remember on my first day at school my hair was plaited and tied with these big ribbon bows. And I remember the smell of leather from those brand-new Clark's shoes."

Her only daughter, Sheleen, turned four this August.

"My schoolbag has flowers on it," Sheleen reports excitedly. At present, this is her most important piece of preparation for next week's event. She's already tried out the uniform, modelling it twice around the house this summer; once for a week when it was initially bought and again last week. "So we've had to wash it already, before she's ever been to school at all," Regina says.

Sheleen will be joining her three older brothers at their small school at Rahan, near Mallow, for the first time on Tuesday. "Once you've seen one child go off, it's not too bad," Regina says. "But she'll be taking the first of her little steps in life, and Sheleen is a bit special because she's the only girl. I shouldn't be saying that, should I? It's because she's the youngest, too, and probably the last."

Regina is on the fourth year of a five-year career break from her teaching job. "I'm always really busy here in the house. We're lucky that we don't have to depend on my salary, which means that I can take the time off to be at home. I'll miss Sheleen around the house, she's great company. But I'm looking forward to having some time to myself from next week as well, to be honest."

Alison Munro, who'll be five in November, starts at Dunmore National School in north Galway next week. She's the first in her family to go to school. "I have two others younger than her at home, so I won't be sitting down crying on Tuesday," says her mother, Geraldine.

"I'm a little bit nervous about her going off, but she's so excited and happy about it that it makes me feel better. I work part-time, so I'm not here all the time, but I'm sure if I was used to being at home all day with her, I'd find it really hard seeing her go off to school."

Geraldine was the eldest of 10 children. Like her daughter, she pioneered the first-day-at-school ritual. "I was so scared and so lonesome. I'd never been to playschool or minded by a child-minder so it was a terrifying experience. I just remember everything being so big. The chairs and the tables. I've been back in that school since for meetings and looked into the old classroooms and the chairs look the opposite now, so small and tiny."

Geraldine works in Galway, a 60-mile round trip from the small town of Dunmore.

"I have an early start in the mornings. My husband will be taking her to school and picking her up. We're lucky that we live in a small community. People are more flexible here and we know all our neighbours, so we could ask for help if we were stuck. I don't think we'd have that if we lived somewhere big, like Cork or Dublin."

On Linda Burgess's first day at school, she cried all day.

"I had no idea what it was going to be like, because I wasn't used to being away from home before starting school. Kids nowadays all go to playschool, so they cope better. I remember this big brown leather satchel. It had buckles and was really heavy."

Her only child, Joanne, who turns four at the end of September and will be starting at St Peter's in Cabra, is equipped with a brightly-coloured Walt Disney bag. "Much trendier than what I had!"

Linda is bringing up Joanne by herself. "Her first day at school will be a really special day. I have a camera and I'm going to take lots of pictures, but it would be so nice to be sharing the experience with someone else," she says quietly.

Linda has a full-time job. "I thought I'd have to give up my job when Joanne starts school, because it affects my working hours negatively. I wouldn't be able to collect her when she finishes. But I'm so lucky, my sister has just moved into the area and she'll do it for me. It's hard on your own like that," she concedes.

"Not just the financial arrangements, but having two people available to share the practical things. I've taken two weeks' holidays to coincide with her first fortnight at school, because they only go in for a couple of hours at the beginning so the time is very broken up and hard to plan for."

Joanne has been going to playschool for some time. "She said to me last week that she was going to really miss her friends there." Linda reports down the phone. "She told me that her heart would break if she couldn't see her friends from playschool again. Those exact words. That her heart would break."

There is the sudden sound of an indignant small girl wailing in the background.

What's Joanne saying?

"She's saying, `Mammy, I told you that was a secret'," Linda confesses sheepishly.