The halls are massive and shiny. You know, school shiny.
The kind that if you were wearing sneakers, they would squeak. You may even trip if you were wearing said sneakers and your step was a little off. The kind where you can tell that the school takes great pride in their cleanliness, and if you were being called to the principals office, the shininess of the halls would be both comforting and oddly intimidating, for the lone journey down.
The lights reflect almost blindingly off the floors and we walk down to the meeting for the school in the gymnasium because this is the place where you call it a gymnasium, and not a gym. ‘Gym’ would be too small a word for this gigantic space. It’s here that all the parents and children and families for sixth graders are literally spilling out and into the hallways. There’s barely room to move.
Change is hard and on Sixth Grade Back to School Night, I feel myself choking up a little. Last year, the transition from home school was change enough, and now we’re supposed to send him here? I take comfort in a few familiar faces, floating in a sea of hundreds.
So I take a deep breath and remember that maybe these are some of my own feelings on Middle School. Of the boy that was mean to me and the girls that could be meaner. I was no angel myself, I’m sure. And spiral perms were probs a bad call in 1993. I think I still have nightmares about my own locker combination and missed schedules and math tests. I was that awkward scrawny girl, usually lost and confused. Hello, anxiety.
But this school feels big. Too big. We help him look at his locker combo, and rehearse it several times. He’s so little down there, crammed in, trying to turn the dial again and again. Right. Left. Right. I realize in a small panic this was the time to bring his Locker Mate and help him install it. If we had one. Rookie middle school mom fail. Face palm. And other bad feelings. For some reason, that Locker Mate {do they even call them that?} would make me feel so much better, and I have no idea why. Probably because I take comfort in the things I know I can control. Like pretty spaces and organized closets. Yes. Issues.
Then we shuffle down the hall to meet his teacher, which is a bit fruitless because it’s so crowded, and I make eye contact with a few other moms who I am pretty sure would be my spirit animal, because their faces say it all. We give each other a smile and I feel a little better because I know I’m not alone. I take comfort because the teacher seems nice. She has pretty hair. And good dress choices. And from the window, her classroom also looks shiny and new and perhaps these are good qualifications for a teacher and first impressions and stuff.
I want to tell her to watch him carefully. To maybe help him if he seems to need it and doesn’t always speak up for himself. That I hope he can find his locker and remembers to get his books in between classes. To make the other kids be nice to him. And of course, to make sure he behaves.
But at the risk of seeming neurotic, I don’t.
On the way back out, we walk by a super model mom with perfectly perky lady bits. And a kid who has peaked already. Twice. I’m in awe at the sixth grade girls… they have boobs and makeup and smart phones. They’re as tall as me. Aiden still likes legos and creating things and video games and I have to help him brush his hair because he has a little cowlick that never wants to lay down. He has a wrist watch that doubles as a phone in case he needs us, and when he does need a real phone, we’ll probably buy him an old school Nokia.
Here I am, about to release him into the fray.
My. Baby.
We go to dinner afterwards, because we’re in a small panic that we haven’t purchased school supplies yet. And a Locker Mate is at the top of my list. I ask Aiden what he thinks about his new school, and he says with a shrug that he doesn’t care, over his chicken sandwich and fries. I worry that he’s worried and I’m probably projecting more worry.
Lord. Help me.
It’s a Friday night at Target, where we go through the list of things to purchase. We even download the younger two kiddos’ lists and their requirements. We’re kicking ourselves that we didn’t sign up for the easy peasy 50 dollar school supplies through the school in the spring when we forgot. So there we are, with a few other straggler parents and overwhelming lists. Now we’re spending twice as much for each kiddo. So we sigh, and divide it into three shopping carts, all so we won’t have to re-sort when we get home.
We go through the entire list, me mostly mumbling no, to their requests of things that are not listed, since we’re probably three hundred dollars in, already. And then I remember Locker Mate! As we head over to the appropriate aisle. There are two left: one is pink and the other grey. For the record, Locker Mates have come a long way since their large, bulky multi-piece plastic days.
So we grab the grey one, and then my kid, who ‘didn’t care’, grabs for a couple of magnetized door organizers, too. The kind that holds pens, and one even has a little mirror. He’s lighting up a little bit at the idea of getting a few things organized, when he asks if he can have those, too. So I say yes.
I catch him out of the corner of my eye, looking at a light-up mirror ball to hang in the top of his locker. Which at first, I think is silly and I’m distracted by the hi-lighters and tissue boxes left on the list.
But when he wanders off into another aisle, I grab the prettiest mirrorball I can find. He’s gazing down at two packets of identical erasers, trying to decide which to get when I walk up beside him. I place it in his hands, and the look on his face says it all. He’s a sixth grader now, even if all I can see is that sweet, bald chubby six month old I cradled in my arms for hours on end.
And if I can get him excited over a mirror ball in need of two double-A batteries for his locker, I will.
It’s the little things.
On the way home, all three kids jabber excitedly about their finds, and we realize that maybe spending a little extra all in the name of getting excited, was worth it. {As soon as we’re home, they’ll run upstairs and spend an hour organizing them.} I think they needed a little boost since transitions tend to be hard for all of us. Jamin reminds me in the car that he actually enjoyed middle school and that he went to a larger one and he survived. It can be fun. We tell Aiden to be friendly, and if he’s kind, the other kids can’t help but like him. We ask him again if he’s excited and changes his response from not-caring, to, yes, a little.
I realize that I can’t always react in fear of the unknown.
I look back at all three, and know that this is just another season. We’ll just have to figure it out as we go. We’ll continue to invite open conversations and old fashioned family dinners and nurture our relationships so that they only get better from here. I hope he always not-so-secretly loves Legos, and while I know that I won’t always be smoothing down that cowlick, that smart phone can wait.
They’re smiling, chatting away in the back seat. And I feel a little better because Locker Mates. And excited smiles. I know we’ll be sneaking back up to the school to help him install it next week. I feel a small squeeze on my shoulder and it’s Jamin. We share a moment. Maybe, just maybe, we’re doing it right for us, with our little family…
Shiny halls, and all.
Amanda says
My babies are only 1 and 3, but this post had me so choked up!! I constantly ask my oldest to stay little and cute and portable, and she always tells me “but mommy, i HAVE to get big!”
Anne says
We homeschooled, not because of philosophy or fear, but because it just worked out the best for us each year. I always start with that disclaimer, so people don’t think we’re one of Those homeschoolers. We started with first grade because our tiny, quiet, well-behaved daughter was already reading well, well beyond beginner level the same year that a new school superintendent was mainstreaming all special ed students into the regular classrooms, and we were pretty sure she’d be overlooked. We reevaluated yearly, with special attention paid to the decisions about middle school and high school (if you’d told me I’d ever have homeschooled through high school I’d have laughed in your face), and when it came time for the high school decision we took a tour after hours. Our reaction was exactly like yours and we unanimously and quickly decided that it wasn’t a good place for our still-tiny daughter to flourish. My .02, which is worth exactly what you’ve paid for it ;), is that if it feels wrong and scary, that’s worth paying attention to. I don’t remember which of your kids struggled last year, and I’m not at ALL saying you’re making the wrong decisions about their education, that would be completely wrong of me. I’m just giving you a little boost to listen to your gut and mull it over, year after year.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Yes Anne – please see my post here – https://www.thehandmadehome.net/2017/08/first-day-school-free-printable-first-day-signs/
change is just hard. Period. If anyone listens to their gut, we do. Everyone does what they have to do.
Kelley C says
My son (and only child) starts kindergarten in September. I have all the feels right now, too.
Deb Thompson says
I was a stay at home momma until last summer when we moved and I HAD to go to work. I have two kiddos. My boy will be the first to venture these shiny halls and I’m sitting at my desk trying to “work” and instead my throat is burning and my eyes are “watering” and I have “allergies” all of sudden…because THIS. POST. My goodness. I think all momma’s have the same heart.
Bets says
I love this post. As a seasoned mom (three kids in their 20’s, a 19-yr old, 16-yr old, and an 8-yr old) you’d think I’d be nodding my head like a wise owl, saying “ah yes, I remember when I used to get choked up over this stuff.” But the thing is, I STILL get choked up over this stuff. My youngest is entering 3rd grade and I’m panicked by how quickly she is growing up. My middle daughter only has TWO years left of high school before she goes off on her own (how can that be?!?!?!?). My youngest son (my baby boy!!) is 6’4″ and almost TWENTY!
It’s all crazy. The new beginnings, the new challenges, the decisions you make and then regret and then come to realize they were the right decisions at the time. All the fears about “will they make new friends?” “will they find their classrooms?” “will they remember their locker combos and their gym sneakers and the right books for each class?” — all of those fears are so natural, and so unnecessary, and yet we all have them.
Your kids will do great. They have parents who CARE, and that right there gives them what they need to face these new challenges. And you, you’ll be fine as well. Just remember to bring a box of tissues with you on that first day.
xo Bets
Margaret says
I’m a teacher. I’m a mom. I get the feels from both sides of the door.
You’re doing it right! You’re watching and listening and tuned in. You’ll keep doing that and he will FLY.
(and that super-model mom? she might have stinky feet =) )
Bonnie says
You made me cry when I read your blog today. I remember when my kids were still at home and getting ready for the first day. It’s scary and exciting at the same time!!
Celeste says
My youngest is 27 and I haven’t been in this phase for many years, but this brings up so many memories of the anxiety we can feel as moms. It morphs into something a bit different, but still I ask my son “How was your day?” when what I really mean is “Did you have any problems I need to handle, was anyone mean to you?” He always answers with “It was fine.” I know he can take care of himself, but it’s hard to stop parenting. You never stop wanting to protect them.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Amen!
Manette Gutterman says
Mine never got to use his locker because they don’t give them time to get into it. Mine is also starting high school and I’ll be drowning myself in ice cream while watching his baby videos when he catches the bus for the first time. I can’t even deal!
My youngest is starting 5th grade and his options for middle school are terrible. Our school system sucks and getting into an Ivy League college is easier than getting into a great school program here. I’m stressed out already thinking about it long before Nov when we have to apply or succumb to his terrible resides school. I wish we could move to another state!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Awe – I’m sorry Manette. I am with you today in spirit with the ice cream. Where we lived was so rough, that is one of the main reasons/motivations behind why we moved. I feel ya. Thinking of y’all with lots of hugs!
Angie says
Do you know the song “Small piece of you” by Sara Groves? Mine are 11 and 13. I know your feelings all so well. Pray pray and pray!