Let's see. It's 8 AM. By the time you start reading this post, I will most likely be sitting in the parking lot of my kids' school waiting for them to open the doors. Today is the first day of school in our district, and on the first day the parents traditionally walk their kids to class and meet the parents. Usually Mrs. G. manages to snag this plum assignment, but this year I get the honors.
It's even funnier, because TheBoy and BabyGirl G. go to the very same elementary school that I attended as a child - one of the little perks of being a townie. I wandered the same halls they wander; ate my lunch in the same cafeteria where they have their midday repast; practiced my lines on the same stage where they have their school plays; and dodged the same playground balls in the same gymnasium where they, too, escape the rubber menace.
It's funny. The line blurs over the years, alternating between love and hate for September. When you're first starting school, you eagerly await the first day, with the shiny new school clothes that mom bought for you (for me, that was the only time I got *new* clothes and not hand-me-downs from cousins) and a fresh box of crayons. You'd be excited about seeing all your old friends from the previous year; you'd be wondering what kind of teacher you'd have; the year stretched before you like a blank canvas just waiting to be filled.
Then you get a little older, and you start dreading September. School isn't fun any more; it's far more of a chore or a punishment to be endured. You start to savor the concept of "Friday" (and, for a moment of Zen, you simultaneously start to hate the very sound of "Monday"...) and the weekend that stretches before you, 48 hours of school-free living. Tests, book reports, deadlines, report cards; everything that sucks the fun out of your life happens in those hallowed halls of learning. You learn that "responsible" is a code word for "sucker"; that playing nice with others is a great idea for pre-schoolers, but when it's a seventh grader who shaves, "playing nice" means running like hell away from him.
It doesn't get much better until that September you arrive in front of your respective college or university. A whole new world of freedom awaits - you have no bed time, you have no curfew, you can order pizza at 2 in the morning and sleep until noon if you so desire. You also have only yourself to blame should things go sour. That's a big step, and a lot of kids only see that one September at college before they realize that they can't be good grownups, at least not now. But September for the college student is a mixed bag - you gain back the freedom from mom & dad's rules, but it comes at the expense of ever-increasing doses of responsibility.
And then you become a parent, and you realize that September - and the return to school - is the greatest time of the year.
That is all.
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4 comments:
I *never* looked forward to school. But of course I've always been a night owl -- early mornings on the bus were always a pain!
Lots of luck to your kids!
I wandered the same halls they wander; ate my lunch in the same cafeteria where they have their midday repast; practiced my lines on the same stage where they have their school plays; and dodged the same playground balls in the same gymnasium where they, too, escape the rubber menace
Reminds me of when my brother had to go meet the HS principal because his son was in trouble.
The very same principal who knew my brother so very well.
That was funny.
You know, for me. For the players? Not so much.
About those university students. I don't see any of the new freshmen at my school this semester getting much beyond where they are now. It's kind of amazing the change that has happened to the quality of the students between when I was a freshman 4 years ago and now.
Jay, if you or the Missus take the kids to school (don't know if they catch a bus or not) in the next few days, you might want to see how they are preparing for the arrival of Earl in your neck of the woods this weekend. Remember, Uber-Liberal States tend to focus on Banning Cigarette lighters rather than Disaster Preps. That's FEMA's job, after all. You also might want to get your home prepped for the storm, also. You know, generator, extra fuel, LED lights, all the good stuff that the State Commissars won't have ready to go when the Hurricane hits.
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