Back To School

It's that time of year again and I'm facing it with more trepidation than my 2nd grader.  Perhaps it's the fact that he'll be leaving in a few hours to spend the day elsewhere.  Perhaps I'm remembering easier times when I didn't wake up to the jolting scream of an alarm clock (oh wait, that was just yesterday, wasn't it?).  Whatever the case may be, I can't help but feel a bit sad today.

I remember D's first day of preschool.  We had just moved back from Little Rock and I was so thrilled to be handing him off to two very capable and loving friends of ours.  With a baby in the house and a very pregnant and tired mommy, he wasn't quite getting all the attention and stimulation he needed.  I knew that he would love his preschool experience and blossom so much.  I was right.  But I still cried when I dropped him off.

I remember his second 1st day of preschool.  He was not at all nervous.  He hopped out of the car and ran to get in line without so much as a goodbye.  I cried that day too, but for different reasons.

There's a strange paradox in the life of a mother.  Somewhere we get caught between wanting to keep our kids close, to control all they hear and see, to protect them.  Somehow we think that because no one will love them like we do that no one else can love them.  For me, the struggle comes in knowing that the best thing for my son is allowing him to step out of our home, to spread his wings, to explore.  Not because I don't want to keep him close, but because I know that I won't always be able to keep him close.  Holding on to him will hinder him.  He is the type of kid who will only go if he knows it's okay.   I have to show him that it is.  I read somewhere once that if you truly love someone, it means loving them enough to be happy for them even when you can't share in their happiness.   It means allowing them to do something they enjoy, something that's good for them, whether or not you're a part of it.

I remember D's first day of Kindergarten.  He was nervous.  I was a wreck.  I knew he was in capable hands.  I had heard great things about his teacher and had complete peace about leaving him in her care.  But I still cried when I dropped him off.  

I worried the entire day if he would be able to adjust.  Now he would be responsible to go to the bathroom without me there to remind him.  He would be responsible to eat his own lunch and purchase his own drink.  How could he possibly adapt from having me there to help meet his every need to being so self-sufficient in such a short amount of time?  Somehow he did, and he did it with ease.  Not only did he survive Kindergarten, but I watched him thrive.  He took chances he wouldn't ordinarily have taken under my watchful eye.  He learned how to make friends and be a friend.  Most importantly, he learned he could do it on his own.

I remember his first day of 1st grade.  This time, he was used to his school.  He saw familiar faces when he walked on campus.  His teacher was sweet and fun and loved her job.  I knew she would love him too.  But, I still cried when I dropped him off.

This time, he didn't need me to hold his hand in line until he walked inside the building.  He knew the drill and walked confidently into his classroom.  He looked forward to learning and was excited for a new year.  In first grade, he learned that he was capable.  He soared academically!  He made new friends and still kept the old.  He loved his "beautiful teacher" and looked forward to seeing her every day.

Now here we are on the cusp of second grade.  Same school, same drill.  We've been there and done that.  D is excited to go back to school.  He's excited his best friend is in his class again.  He's excited to eat in the cafeteria.  He's excited to play on the playground.  He's excited to go back to music and art.  He's excited about science and reading.  And although, he's voiced his concern about multiplication, I'm confident that he'll rise to the occasion and grasp it with as much ease as he has everything else.   He's going to have a great year!  But, I'll still cry when I drop him off.