There is a feeling of electricity in the air being on yard duty before the first bell on the first day of school. Everything is perfect; the school is clean, the hopscotch lines have been repainted, the sandbox has fresh sand and the blades of grass have been straightened. It is the day after Labour Day. We are pumped!
Slowly, then in clusters, the children descend on the playground in their yet-to-be wrinkled clothing, new runners, neatly brushed hair and pristine, perfectly packed backpacks. We teachers mill around and assess the situation with a smile plastered on our face. All seems copacetic until…we spy him; the lingering parent. First one, and then another. They soon seem to be everywhere, propped up against their children, defending them against…pencils, I assume.
For a moment, time stands still. We all know it’s going to happen, and then it does. The bell rings.
In what is now considered ‘flash mob’ fashion, children scramble into their lines, excited to get to class. Within moments, the building swallows them all up. There’s a momentary hush as the playground empties. The doors close leaving the children inside with the teachers and the parents free to go about their day.
Now, here’s the question…who at this moment is the most nervous, the student, the teacher or the parent?
I must confess…teachers get butterflies, we really do. We want to succeed. We want the children to like us. And we want a year where the only calls from the parents are to tell us what a stellar job we are doing. Yes, we get nervous, but it’s not us.
Students are nervous, for sure. They are facing a new grade, new challenges, and unfamiliar faces but is it them? No. Students generally sense that their nervousness doesn’t compare to the excitement of the adventure that lies ahead for them. They are daring, willing to give the unknown a shot with a positive outlook. It is not them.
It is, in my humble opinion, the parents who are the most apprehensive. That bell signals their permission to start wondering, will the teacher take care of my child’s every needs? Well, how could she, they surmise, when she doesn’t know every detail about my child and has to look after all these other children! What if my child is sad, will she know and be sensitive to his feelings? And…wait… (and here is the real zinger) how is it that my child just marched in to school with a mere, Bye Mom, without crying! Doesn’t he need me anymore? Does my standing alone on the playground indicate that my six or eight or ten year old is forsaking me? Am I not important to her anymore? After all I’ve done for her? Where did I go wrong!!!!
I’ve watched the scene repeat year in and year out. I’ve rolled my eyes at those pathetic parents, for I know the truth. The children are going to be fine. It’s just time for the parents to grow up.
So, why do I tell you all this? Because the tables have turned. I am now the blubbering parent standing in the empty playground. My last born is off to university. The sand timer is running with mere hours to go, so I am eking out every moment with him I can muster. I know that immediately upon arrival at his new digs, he’s going to give me a kiss and hug, turn his back and walk into his dorm. It is then that I will hear the umbilical cord snap.
Will I shed tears? Undoubtedly. But I’ve learned some things from watching all those students walking in to class that first day of school each year. My son may be more than a thousand kilometres from home, but he is not forsaking me. I am important to him. And yes, he still needs me….a bit.
My baby is embarking on a new, exciting adventure. He is ready to turn a new page in his life, and I am thrilled to be turning a new one in mine.
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