The First Day to the Last
Today is my older son's last day of high school. I have been reminded this morning, as I sit here and reminisce about his school years, of many firsts and lasts along the way. I remember when he was first in preschool, so tiny with blond curls and a fiery spirit. He wasn't ready for any kind of school yet, but he was three so off he went, two mornings a week. I know now that I should have waited. The teachers would have appreciated it! He had trouble with potty training, trouble with getting along with others, trouble with conforming to the rules. In every picture all the kids would be smiling in the group and Brian would be on the floor, throwing a fit. Yep, that's my boy! He went through two years that way and when Ms. Brenda told us he wasn't ready for kindergarten yet and we needed to give him one more year in preschool, my husband and I struggled with the decision. Was she right? We knew she was, but it's hard to make any decision that may be the wrong one and could affect your child for years to come. We did decide to give him another year and that last year of preschool was the best ever. He was a leader in the class now, the circus ringmaster, the one who had it all together. He just needed a little more time.
I remember the first day I left him in elementary school. I wasn't sure it was the right choice, but I did it. His first grade teacher was fantastic and he did well. I remember his first day of second grade...well, the first day he met his new teacher. He was a tiny, tiny little boy of eight years and he heard that he had a "new" teacher, new to the school. In his mind, though, he associated new with not know what to do and he rationalized that if she didn't know what to do and he didn't know what to do, things just might be a little scary. So for three nights before we met the teacher he didn't sleep. He stressed and he worried, not able to put his thoughts into words. When he went into the school to meet her, Ms. P was pretty and dark skinned and had a deep, soothing voice. He was wary, though, hanging back. I explained that he was anxious because she was "new" and she reassured me that she had been teaching for several years. She gave Brian some time to scan the room and look around and then she went up and sat down near him and engaged him in conversation, telling him about her last school where she taught and the boys and girls she taught there. You could see him visibly relax. They were going to be okay. Actually they were more than okay. She was a wonderful, fun, loving teacher and I worked there with her through the year. We had a Ravens pep rally, taught the kids silly songs, loved them, laughed with them and held them close to our hearts. Ms. P, now Ms. T, remains a friend today. It was a wonderful year.
The next year was our first year of homeschooling. It was 2001 and on one of our first days of school Brian was sitting at the table doing some morning work and I was outside putting out the trash. When I came in I saw on the news that a plane had gone into a building in New York. And then another...and the rest is history. 9/11. The most horrific day in the history of this country. I had to find my girls at school and get them home with me, but I was thankful that he was here with me, safe and sound.
I could go on for hours about our homeschooling experience. Maybe one day I will. It was the best of times and he and I learned so much and had more fun than you can imagine. Spending every day with him was a precious gift. Fast forward eight years and it was the end. I don't remember a last day, but I was painfully aware during that last year of the time that was slipping away so quickly.
I do, however, vividly remember his first day of high school. He got dressed in his uniform and we got in the car and made the short ride to Cardinal Gibbons. He was so nervous and I could see the tears brimming in his eyes that he was trying to hold back. I was nervous too, and the tears were threatening, but I knew that I had to be positive and strong for him. I put on my happy face, told him how wonderful this experience was going to be for him, and put him out of the car. He walked away, up those outside stairs, and into the next phase of his life. I sobbed all the way home and for two more hours. When he came home that day he said "Mom, it's like I have always been there. I feel like it's where I belong". And so, it began.
And today, it ends. We have so many happy memories to hold onto, so many pictures, so many friends. We had our heartaches along the way too, but I think the good outweighed the bad. I have had countless teachers come up to me in the last four years to tell me what a fantastic young man my son is. They tell me of his confidence, his honesty, his poise, how he always chooses to do what's right over what may be "cool" or popular. The road he has taken hasn't always been the easy one. Sometimes it has left him alone and feeling lonely. However, the choices he has made and the road he has taken have always led him closer to God and to a successful future. Sometimes I have wondered if homeschooling was the best choice. Today, looking back, I know it was.
He leaves high school today with a MIAA B Conference Championship football ring on his finger, a transcript with almost straight A's over four years, two more solid years of time spent under his dad's coaching wing and friends who don't have a bad word to say about him. Today is the end of an era and the start of something new and wonderful. Today my son closes one door and steps toward another. He is no longer a tiny blond haired imp who is fearful and unsure. He is now a handsome, athletic, intelligent, kind and compassionate man who has the world at his fingertips. Thank you, Brian David, for the wonderful times and beautiful memories you have given all of us, especially me, over the last nineteen years. You have been a pleasure to raise and a pleasure to teach, a treasure to love. Step forward knowing that you are loved and cherished and that we are all still here, cheering you on from the bleachers, waiting for your next big moment. We love you!
I remember the first day I left him in elementary school. I wasn't sure it was the right choice, but I did it. His first grade teacher was fantastic and he did well. I remember his first day of second grade...well, the first day he met his new teacher. He was a tiny, tiny little boy of eight years and he heard that he had a "new" teacher, new to the school. In his mind, though, he associated new with not know what to do and he rationalized that if she didn't know what to do and he didn't know what to do, things just might be a little scary. So for three nights before we met the teacher he didn't sleep. He stressed and he worried, not able to put his thoughts into words. When he went into the school to meet her, Ms. P was pretty and dark skinned and had a deep, soothing voice. He was wary, though, hanging back. I explained that he was anxious because she was "new" and she reassured me that she had been teaching for several years. She gave Brian some time to scan the room and look around and then she went up and sat down near him and engaged him in conversation, telling him about her last school where she taught and the boys and girls she taught there. You could see him visibly relax. They were going to be okay. Actually they were more than okay. She was a wonderful, fun, loving teacher and I worked there with her through the year. We had a Ravens pep rally, taught the kids silly songs, loved them, laughed with them and held them close to our hearts. Ms. P, now Ms. T, remains a friend today. It was a wonderful year.
The next year was our first year of homeschooling. It was 2001 and on one of our first days of school Brian was sitting at the table doing some morning work and I was outside putting out the trash. When I came in I saw on the news that a plane had gone into a building in New York. And then another...and the rest is history. 9/11. The most horrific day in the history of this country. I had to find my girls at school and get them home with me, but I was thankful that he was here with me, safe and sound.
I could go on for hours about our homeschooling experience. Maybe one day I will. It was the best of times and he and I learned so much and had more fun than you can imagine. Spending every day with him was a precious gift. Fast forward eight years and it was the end. I don't remember a last day, but I was painfully aware during that last year of the time that was slipping away so quickly.
I do, however, vividly remember his first day of high school. He got dressed in his uniform and we got in the car and made the short ride to Cardinal Gibbons. He was so nervous and I could see the tears brimming in his eyes that he was trying to hold back. I was nervous too, and the tears were threatening, but I knew that I had to be positive and strong for him. I put on my happy face, told him how wonderful this experience was going to be for him, and put him out of the car. He walked away, up those outside stairs, and into the next phase of his life. I sobbed all the way home and for two more hours. When he came home that day he said "Mom, it's like I have always been there. I feel like it's where I belong". And so, it began.
He leaves high school today with a MIAA B Conference Championship football ring on his finger, a transcript with almost straight A's over four years, two more solid years of time spent under his dad's coaching wing and friends who don't have a bad word to say about him. Today is the end of an era and the start of something new and wonderful. Today my son closes one door and steps toward another. He is no longer a tiny blond haired imp who is fearful and unsure. He is now a handsome, athletic, intelligent, kind and compassionate man who has the world at his fingertips. Thank you, Brian David, for the wonderful times and beautiful memories you have given all of us, especially me, over the last nineteen years. You have been a pleasure to raise and a pleasure to teach, a treasure to love. Step forward knowing that you are loved and cherished and that we are all still here, cheering you on from the bleachers, waiting for your next big moment. We love you!
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