Walking The School Block

I've been thinking a lot today about the changing of the seasons.  Just days ago, the weather was warm, the sun coaxed my hoodie off, flip flops were acceptable and the days held the split personality of half summer/half fall.  Today, the "chill" is in the air, you know, the chill that you can't ignore, that bites through your jacket and makes you turn away from the wind.  The chill that makes you dress in flannel and hoodies, don socks, plug in the ignored-all-summer heating pad and start searching for those cheap gloves that you get at the dollar store, 3 pair for $3, or some such 'deal' that are warm enough until the real cold shows up.

I found myself wondering - how did that cold sneak up on me?  It was warm just the other day. 

Like a chameleon adapting to its' environment, I've adapted to mine too.  Fewer meals come from the BBQ; soups and stews fill my cooking pots; I time my cookies so they're baked in time for the boys to burst through the door after school.  We've survived the first month of school and have become slaves to the school schedule.  We've abandoned the freedoms of summer and have learned to embrace, or at least abide, the fundraising and early morning volleyball practices and packing lunches and evening homework and tired by Friday/sleep in Saturday bodies.

I went for a walk around the school block this afternoon.

I walked this path dozens of times when the boys were little and needed, or wanted, company on their way.  We would hold hands, maybe only until the playground came into view, then it was hands off so they could be cool.  Before we reached the playground, we exchanged lots of hand squeezes - two squeezes = "I love you". 

I will squeeze your hand while no one's looking and you will know in that moment that my heart is ever so full of love for you.   

Back in those days, the school seemed to me to be a big fat monster, ready to suck up my child and influence him with Lord-knows-what information that I may or may not like, influencing him to prefer their company over mine and I sighed and worried about how this kid would still love me at the end of the day when all I was was 'mom'.

I needn't have worried.

No one takes the place of mom and dad and home and family.




I walked a little further around the school block.

Two, maybe even three hundred kids are out on the school ground at recess and I can't believe the noise.  I can't believe that I don't know these little ones who are climbing the monkey bars and swinging high on the swings and fighting some imaginary foe on the ball diamond.  A green dodgeball lies abandoned on the sand pit while some group 'playing pretend' trumps throwing a green ball at each other until someone gets touched.  Where did all these babies come from and why is my boy not on this playground?  Oh, he's over there, with the big kids, because, it seems he IS a big kid.  And he's my baby.  How did that happen?  We're in our 10th year at this school, and my baby is one of the big boys on the playground. 

I guess it happened one year at a time.  We morphed from being kindergarten parents of one into being parents of two Division One students into being the mother and father of boys in growth spurts and facial hair and then one hit Grade 8 grad and moved on, leaving the other one flying solo, kicking butt at being a well respected leader on the playground.


Someone, please make it stop.....

At least, couldn't this all just slow down - those are MY kids growing up, making their way across unknown paths. 

In my mind, I'm still walking them to school, squeezing their hand ... twice, of course ... reminding them secretly that I love them.  But they walk to school alone and that's all good and I'm glad and grateful that my happy healthy boys can maneuver their way in their own worlds with a great deal of success and competency.  That is exactly as it should be.



So I'll guess I'll keep the warm fires burning for them at home.

Seems that my fears of the school monopolizing their affections were unfounded.  They want to come home at the end of the day.

Of course they do!  How silly I was to doubt that.

Yeah, and about that big bad monster (school) that I was so afraid of?  Get this.  I stopped in at the school this morning to pick up my boy for a quick appointment.  Mr. A.'s former Grade 7 and 8 teachers hovered around me - "How's Andrew doing in high school?"  I shared with them all of the ways that he is happy and adjusting and succeeding and they smiled and nodded.  When I mentioned that he has a whole new circle of friends, they smiled even bigger - "we knew that would happen!".  We shared for a few moments some of the struggles that Andrew had had to endure while in public school - specifically - how his class hadn't been a friendly place and how he often stood out by virtue of being not like any of the others.  When I mentioned that it had just seemed like he never did fit in at public school, a teacher looked me in the eye and said "that's okay, we saw that, but WE loved him." 

A statement I won't soon forget.  This big bad monster school that I feared back in 2005 loved my boy in some of his darkest moments.  They had his back all along.

Sweet.  So much for being a monster.

I'm glad we have a couple more years to hang out there - I think I have some teacher appreciation moments to fulfill.