When he started at his last school, he was four, and his three-year-old brother was in class with him – a two-year preschool.
I walked him in every day. I waited until the teacher hugged him or shook his hand or said good morning. I volunteered in the classroom with other moms – for a number of us, it was our first or only. And we have been laughing, encouraging, comparing notes ever since.
But at this new school – high school – he forges his own path. No mom. No little brother fingerpainting at the next easel. Only one known friend among 500 in his class. We both know it would look silly for me to walk him in. I don’t know his teachers, and they haven’t watched him grow up. Don’t yet know his slow-to-reveal humor and wonderful personality.
His brother asked to come yesterday when I picked him up after his first day. “It feels weird that I’ve never even seen his school.”
And when our high schooler got out of the car on the morning of Day 2, he sighed, “I feel a little sad.”
Me too, sweetie. But you get stronger, more impressive every day. You’re going to do great!