7:45 AM-- We close our car doors and the kids heft their heavy, overloaded backpacks onto their shoulders. The packs are full of newly sharpened pencils, reams of crisp white paper, folders with sharp corners. Their faces show their mixed feelings about this day: there's a sparkle in their eyes that hints at the excitement they're reluctant to tell about, a nervousness in the smile of my girl. My 6th grade son is working hard to maintain the scowl he's had since I woke him this morning. But his pace is brisk, purposeful. They tolerate the annual photo taken in front of the school's marquee sign to record this day, to chart their growth as they pass from grade to grade. This will be the last picture I take of my son in front of this sign, so I am happy to see that the scowl is not as pronounced, and looks kind of like a smile. Through the viewfinder, anyway.
Once the photo has been taken, my son once again walks quickly ahead of us, and we hurry to follow him, so that we can say goodbye. And good luck. And have a great day. And I love you. And we'll see you this afternoon. One more photo beside the welcome back sign on the door, and then he's gone. He'll emerge again this afternoon, more tired, less purposeful, happy that he's free again. Until tomorrow. But we won't be there to record the second day for the photo albums, much to his relief.
It's my daughter's turn to lead us to her door. Her turn to pose for a picture, to say goodbye. But she's not ready to go in alone. I walk her to her seat, and help her take out the brand new supplies and put them in her desk. She hangs her empty backpack on her chair, pulls it out and sits down. Her class has 3 pets, and her teacher is nice. She gives me permission to leave, but I do get a hug and a kiss first. She is ready to be a 3rd grader.
Back at home, my two high-schoolers are laughing, joking, getting ready to leave for the bus stop. The younger of the two is beginning his Freshman year, much to the delight and dismay of his Junior brother. They haven't been in school together for years, and will now share the same bus, lunch period, campus. I know my son would be fine on his own, but take comfort that his big brother will be there if he needs him.
Now it's time to leave, to catch the big yellow bus, but the boys know that even though there's not a sign to pose in front of, I will still mark the occassion with a photo. Their smiles are big, that much I can see, even through the viewfinder. My older son is happy; he's an Upperclassman. His smile is confident, his eyes are shining. My younger son smiles a rare, wide smile. His teeth are showing, the sun glistens off his braces. Most of the pictures I have of him from the past 2 years show him with a tight, closed-lip smile, hiding the metal that is guiding his teeth into straight,white lines. He is having fun, but I know he is nervous. After the photos are snapped, he follows his brother down the driveway, still laughing and joking. I hear their voices trail off as they round the corner, and I shout to their retreating backs. Have a good day! I'll see you this afternoon! I love you! And then they're gone, too.
I walk back into the house, which is much quieter now. For the past three months, it has been filled with the sounds of electric and bass guitars, keyboards, stereos, TVs, video games, teenagers, children. But now the sound of the air conditioner pumping cool air through the vents sounds louder than ever. The hot Florida sun doesn't know that summer's over. I pour a cup of coffee, sit down to read the paper before I head off to work. I am wishing I had taken the day off, to enjoy the silence. I could have spent time working on my scrapbooks, maybe finding the photos from the other first days. There have been 12 of them, and there is only going to be one more for my oldest son before he goes off to college. I will be there when he goes, looking through the viewfinder, recording another kind of first in our lives. But this afternoon, they will all come home, and they will share their stories of new teachers, new classrooms, new friends, new things they have already learned. They will have conquered their first day, and I will serve them cake, and listen to them talk, and I will be so proud of them.
This is a bittersweet day. This is the first day of school.
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5 comments:
The summer did go by fast! Congrats to all the kids on their first day. Now we need to see the pictures. =)
Great post.
Stacey - reading your latest account brought tears to my eyes and memories to my mind; memories of your first days at school. No, I didn't take the pictures and wasn't always able to go with you, but in my heart I walked the halls with you every day, praying that the day would be good, that your classmates would like you and that you would find some enjoyment in having to go to school. You have good reason to be proud of your kids and I am not just saying that because I am their grandmother!
Well written. Thanks for the memories, looking at the clock and thinking, "it's just about lunch time," "he must be getting out of science class," "she's probably taking that test right about now." I have my "first day" photos, too -- Ninja Turtle lunch boxes and Barbie backpacks, gleaming white sneakers and a brand new pink outfit. I cried my eyes out on my way home after dropping Brian off at kindergarten for the first time. He looked so small! And Becky barely taking time to say goodbye when she spotted her little friend and rushed in to sit next to her. I cried again. So hard to let go year by year, but so proud of them growing and learning and becoming.
Very well written - my we have a lot of writers in this family! I had the privilege of being a part of Eden's first day of kindergarten this week! I picked her up after her first day. She couldn't remember either of her teachers' names, but she said they were nice! And she was so proud of her brand new white tennis shoes and school uniform of navy blue polo shirt and kahki slacks, with her new purple and pink backpack trailing behind her. Has Nick started thinking about colleged he might like to attend? Love to all!
Thanks for another great narrative! Have the kids settled into their routines? Or, more accurately, have you settled into their routines? Take some time to breathe once in a while, okay?
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