Tuesday, September 1, 2009

First Day of School

It wasn’t so long ago that I was in middle school, was it? I remember it like it was last week. My keds that I drew little hearts and flowers on, side ponytails and extra large bangs, day glo socks that matched my shirt perfectly. I remember passing notes, folding them up into tiny perfect footballs. I remember pegged jeans tucked into those awesome day glo socks. Off the shoulder shirts (so daring!). I remember school dances at Peck Junior High. I remember hot dogs at Nicks Nest. I remember Community field, my first kiss, Chamura pool with April and Kimmy. I remember the triangle, the stream, the bridge, Old Jarvis, the back way to HCC. I took sewing in grade 7.. which I gloriously failed (Who knew pillows were so dang hard!) I remember 1988 like it was last week.

Today I dropped my oldest off for his first day of grade 7. I never saw a more handsome seventh grader, have you? Of course you haven’t.



Thanks kid, for the clothesline. Thanks for finding my key, thanks for grabbing my coffee mug but most of all.. thanks for kissing me goodbye even though all your friends could see.


I also dropped off my little guy for fifth grade. On the first day of my fifth grade Ms. Laliberty, at Sullivan School, said to us.. “I don’t want to hear that you can’t remember your times tables and then see you turn around and sing the Top 40!” That woman was terrifying. Seriously. I sucked at math.. but knew all the lyrics to all the top 40 songs. My little guy is just the same as I was. But infinitely more adorable, you agree of course.



He got a wonderful teacher this year and even though I often want to switch schools for him, I won’t now that he has her. I know she ‘fits’ his personality well. For my little guy having a teacher who ‘gets’ him is important, if he feels uncomfortable he cannot learn.

In grade 5 I hit puberty.. I hit it exceptionally hard to tell the truth. I hope his launch into the world of body hair and funky odors is much less horrifying then mine was. I hope the girls are nice to him. I hope he doesn’t get picked on. I hope that when he does get picked on he stands up for himself. I hope he gets at least one really good friend in his class this year.

I hope that my shouting at the office staff this morning doesn’t get held against my kids. I know I probably shouldn’t have done that but you know.. Motherhood happens
 
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