The start of a school year always inspires a mixed…backpack-full…of
emotions. There’s a sprinkling of melancholy, at bidding farewell to the carefree
days of Summer. Throw in a healthy measure of anticipation and excitement about
the new classes, teachers, and experiences to come. Add a dollop of dread,
sparked by the thought of being forced to heed the insistent call of an alarm
once again…at an hour which is decidedly unpleasant to adolescent constitutions.
These are all normal reactions we expect to encounter on the first day back
each August. However, this year the boys expressed one more feeling, completely
out of character for both of them: jitters.
The night before Day One, as we organized and prepared…stuff…Derek
told me he was nervous—about not knowing any other kids, about attending a new
school…even about not having anyone to sit with at lunch. (Mommy Moment: I
wanted to just wrap him in a big squeeze and tell him I’d be happy to come
along and introduce him to as many people as he wanted. However…nowadays he has
to lean down for a hug, at which point I can barely get my arms around him anyway…and
it’s not preschool he’s trying to navigate…so I know I have to step back and let
him find his own way. But it’s so haaaarrrrrd!) For Riley, it was concern about
the new Middle School model—switching classrooms, getting acquainted with 7
instructors and a whole bunch of fellow 6th graders…and having
someone to share a lunch table. (And what is it with my kids and eating? Oh,
right…it’s absolutely their favorite activity in the whole, wide world…)
I reassured them as best I could that they’d be fine,
and everything would work out (fingers firmly crossed behind my back for luck).
The next morning, Riley bounded out of bed before his alarm even rang (or…beeped…or
chirped…or whatever silly sound he’d set his Kindle to project). This year he’ll
be a walker for the first time in his life, as our neighborhood lies almost
directly across the street from the back of the school building. Even though we’d
figured out pretty much to the second how much time would be required to stroll
in an unhurried fashion and still arrive before the bell…he left 5 minutes
early anyway. “The anticipation is killing me,” he sighed as he practically
skipped out the door. Although I offered—several times—he declined to allow me
to accompany him past the end of the driveway. (Can you imagine? He wanted to
go by himself, without his mother? I just don’t get it…hahahahaha!)
The teenager moved considerably more slowly…true to
form. (Is “not a morning person” an inheritable gene? ‘Cuz yeah, he totally got
it from me. Tragically, he isn’t yet able to self-medicate with the heavenly nectar
commonly known as “coffee”…) But he got himself together without a problem
(well…he’s a BOY, so it was pretty doggone uncomplicated: breakfast, brush
hair, brush teeth…lucky dog!) and left for the bus stop at the appointed time.
Husband and I tried to send him off on an encouraging note, giving him pep
talks about such varied topics as: striking up conversations with other kids while
waiting for your transportation…breaking the ice with students by telling
people he’d recently moved from Maryland…staking out a dining spot with people
from your 4th period class, with whom you’ll presumably be
meandering to the cafeteria…you know, Important Life Advice like that…
Then…the house was silent. It was utterly, completely...weird. Husband returned to his office to resume working, and I went back to…I
don’t even remember, just “stuff I had to do”. After about a half-hour, he
emerged for a moment to comment, “Well, no one came back, or texted for help…so
I guess that’s good!” And it was, for hours and hours. At about 3:30, Riley
came racing in the door, bubbling over with cheer about his day. “Middle school
is so COOL!” he exclaimed. He paused for a moment, thoughtfully, before
continuing in a serious tone, “After just one day, I could NEVER go back to elementary
school!” (Yep, that’s my drama boy…also to be blamed on me…) To sum up his enthusiastic,
extended babbling: he ran into lots of other kids walking; he figured out how
to find all of his classes without difficulty (or getting lost); he had
conversations with some people; and he ate lunch with a nice group.
In contrast…Derek seemed considerably more…subdued…and also
overwhelmed. One of his main issues revolved around an elective course he and I
had selected when we registered him in July. No one was available to help us in
the Guidance Office, so we perused the options online and made what we thought
was an interesting choice. And it might very well consist of fascinating course
material…but according to Derek, he is one of only 2 boys on the class roster…the
rest of which contains entirely Junior and Senior girls. (Note: at some future
time this might fill him with hope and glee, but right now it just Freaks. Him.
Out…) To add to his worries, it’s the period right before lunch, compounding
the difficulty of the whole “finding other freshmen to eat with” dilemma.
Another thing weighing on his mind is the fact that, since he’s in Honors courses, the grading system is skewed—A=93-100%, B=85-92%, etc. Aaannnnd, we might have made a teeny error in allowing the counselor who briefly consulted with this Summer to enroll Derek in Honor's Spanish 3. Honestly, I didn't even notice at the time, or think about what that would entail. Well...it means that according to the teacher's handout, the class will be conducted mostly in Spanish. And let me just tell you, Derek is soooo not ready for that quite yet. (Por favor, can we please have the Regular Espanol? Gracias!) Coupled with the sheer numbers of syllabi and other important official forms we had to wade through, file, in some cases even sign to show we’d read them, it was a LOT to manage. Oh, and then he had a few minor pieces of homework to complete for the next day as well. By bedtime, he was struggling to put coherent sentences together while stumbling around his bedroom in a daze. He presented an unfortunate demeanor of equal parts “glazed”…and “shell-shocked”. (I’ve gotta say it: My poor baaaaaby! How can I bear sending him off to Big, Mean High School?)
Another thing weighing on his mind is the fact that, since he’s in Honors courses, the grading system is skewed—A=93-100%, B=85-92%, etc. Aaannnnd, we might have made a teeny error in allowing the counselor who briefly consulted with this Summer to enroll Derek in Honor's Spanish 3. Honestly, I didn't even notice at the time, or think about what that would entail. Well...it means that according to the teacher's handout, the class will be conducted mostly in Spanish. And let me just tell you, Derek is soooo not ready for that quite yet. (Por favor, can we please have the Regular Espanol? Gracias!) Coupled with the sheer numbers of syllabi and other important official forms we had to wade through, file, in some cases even sign to show we’d read them, it was a LOT to manage. Oh, and then he had a few minor pieces of homework to complete for the next day as well. By bedtime, he was struggling to put coherent sentences together while stumbling around his bedroom in a daze. He presented an unfortunate demeanor of equal parts “glazed”…and “shell-shocked”. (I’ve gotta say it: My poor baaaaaby! How can I bear sending him off to Big, Mean High School?)
So, I can already sense that this will be a Year of
Major Growth for the Westman boys…whether they like it or not…and however
painful it may be. The first order of business, I think, is going to be transferring Derek into the appropriate level of his foreign language...and an alternative 4th-period, pre-lunch elective, so he can
bond with some other 14-year olds….or at least MALES. After that…well, who
knows? But Team WestEnders will undoubtedly figure it out…with coffee (for some of us, anyway)… a lot of group hugs…and a small sacrifice to the Education Gods couldn’t hurt, right? Do
you think they’d like a nice PB&J? I'm on it!
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