Today, Tristan will be starting Grade 3 and Simon will be starting Grade 1. It’s taken me about this long to stop fretting on the boys’ behalf about the first day of school. After a few years, I’ve finally realized that they have suffered none of the grade school trauma I endured as a child; they are not marginalized, not outcasts, not teased, mercilessly or otherwise. In fact, they have lots of friends, are secure and well-adjusted and to all outward appearances, perfectly happy at school.
At least they were, until I uprooted them and sent them to a new school.
Of all the factors involved in moving, changing the boys’ school has caused me the most regret. We all loved the school the boys were at, and they had strong ties to the students and teachers. While the new school has an amazing reputation — even better than the old school — I’ve still got a big lump of regret in my stomach every time I think about the school we’re leaving behind.
I’m sure this has everything to do with the fact that I moved several times in grade school and blame being the new kid on at least part of my social awkwardness. We moved when I was in Grade 1 and in Grade 4 and one more time just before I started Grade 7, and what I remember about elementary school, at least from a social perspective, is somewhere between unremarkable and unpleasant.
I’m glad we were able to firm up the deal on the new house soon enough that I could register the boys with the new school for the first day of classes. Changing schools in between years is tough; doing it five or six weeks into the school year would have been horrible. It means driving back and forth and changing my work hours for a couple of months, until we can move, but that’s a small price to pay to get them oriented right from the beginning of the school year.
The boys have impressed me with their positive attitude toward change — they must get it from their father. They’re excited about the new school, and looking forward to meeting new friends. Any lingering regret over leaving the old school behind seem to be mollified by the idea of each having their own room soon, and of the play structure and tree house in the new house’s backyard. If only I’d known years ago what an effective incentive a tree house could be!
And so, I will swallow the lump of regret I feel each time I look across the field to the boys’ former school and remind myself a few more times that they are not me, and their mileage may vary from mine. They are smart and sweet and wonderful, my boys, and they will be fine. More than fine, they will be awesome, just like they always are. And as long as they’re fine, I will be too.
Maybe it’s because I am sending my firstborn (also a sweet little boy) off to school for the first time this year, but I just had a good ol’ cry after reading this post.
You’re a wonderful mother, Dani.
I completely know how you feel. My father was in the Air Force and I moved enough to make it hard to make friends. My parents insisted that I go to the “regular city school” instead of the one on base. That just made it worse I think.
I hope the boys don’t have any problems with moving to the new school. We both know…what it feels like to be the new kid in school. It is never pleasant.
Don’t be surprised if today went great and they made a ton of friends or there is some “I don’t wanna go back there. Why can’t I stay with my friends?” at the dinner table tonight.
Either way, the boy and you will do fine in the next few weeks once school is in full swing.
Oops that was me above…silly reCAPTCHA didn’t save my info.
Aw, it’s so hard when we find ourselves inflicting things on our children that we hated as kids. But as you say – they are not us. They will not be damaged by the same things, or face the same struggles. I know your boys will be fine, and I know you will be, too. And I hope that the transition into the new school is smooth and easy on everyone.