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Columns > MomGamer > #69: The Last First Day
Time for another school year. But this one is different - it's the last one.  We don't have any falling leaves here or anything yet, but we've spent our time in the trenches and shopped until we've dropped. All has been dithered over and arranged and is in readiness for the traditional drama. We've all done this before so many times it's getting to be old hat. Each of the kids have always been individuals, and they have all added their own grace notes to the experience. This time, they all feel it's a little different than before. This year will have them all in high school, and the eldest will walk into the school he will graduate from next spring. For him, it's the last first day. It makes me think back to their very first day of school. I can still see it in my mind - the eldest walking off so proudly by his dad's side that morning, with the leaves falling around their feet. No hand holding for him except where they crossed the street. He was a big boy, now. I felt so old. I was 23 and I had a kid old enough to go to school! I watched until they turned around the corner and then I sighed and turned back into the house to deal with one seriously annoyed little brother and two largly oblivious little sisters. Boy was he furious. Every day for that whole year he watched his brother go off in the morning and then would wait for him at the end of the walk when he got home so he could see what he was bringing home first. The next year came and the younger one got to go, with his brother to show him the ropes. He was definately his own man from the get-go, though. He had his own adventure that first day involving a moose on the playground and the swingset and came running in the house with another first - the first of many notes from the principal. In due time the girls added their own florish when they discovered what it meant that they weren't in the same classroom the first day. They had been told they were going to be in different rooms for over a week, trying to get them ready, but that didn't prepare them for the fact that meant they couldn't see each other for whole hours at a time. The teachers had a dreadful time because they kept dashing across the hall to show each other their projects or to tell each other what was going on irregardless of what either class was doing. They also tried to exchange places that first week, but they forgot to make sure their tights matched along with the rest of their outfits so they got caught pretty quick. But they settled in, and learned how to be more than four feet from each other. What I remember as the common denominator in all their first days was the pride. They were so proud that they could go to school. They couldn't wait to go. Now, it is a bit harder. They still like school, but now it isn't cool to act like you like anything, so I get this studied show of indifference. But woe betide me if I believe them when they say, "Whatever..." when we are shopping and I choose the wrong thing. This is really annoying, but I remember how it was back in the mists of prehistory when I had to go through this and I try not to strangle anyone. One fine day of shopping at my wits end I started calling it "Pre-School Syndrome" and threatened to hand out Midol at one point. They didn't find it overly funny but they got the point and stopped jerking my chain just because they were stressed about school. The primping and arranging of stuff and planning of first day outfits is remarkably similar, actually. Of course, the name on the butt of the pants means a lot more now. As does your binder and what symbols you draw on it and with what. It reminds me of the Regency fascination with the language of flowers, for some reason. With the advent of more "grown up" underwear for the girls and shaving for the guys we have a lot more interesting time getting things going in the morning. Other things aren't as different as you might hope, either. We will have the same kerfubble the first day we always do. Just that instead of a Blue's Clues backpack issue it will involve a pair of boxers with Escherian green cochroaches printed all over them. A specific mechanical pencil out of the bunchteen floating around my house will have to be unearthed. There will be a long discussion about the fact that you can't wear a purple camisole under a white blouse, but this one doesn't have a cool Eeyore on it like the last one did. There will be at least one good weep and a wail over a haircurling job that went awry, and at least one lost hair-care item. All that will be handled. Then I will watch them walk to the bus stop from my window that morning. It wouldn't be cool to have your Mom walk you anymore, but I will still watch. No matter how many times you send them off, it is still the same strange feeling. We have reached another benchmark together. They are officially a year older in the way that matters most in their life - they are up a grade. And it all means you are older too, even if you don't admit it at your birthdays. I guess that is the biggest thing I have learned. The topics change, but in a lot of ways it remains the same. That is one of the joys. But at one point, it will be their last "first day". It's awfully bittersweet, but it's also the start of an awfully big adventure.
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