The First Day of School
Both warring camps having spent their ammunition yesterday in the Battle of the Bookbag, today was a slow, exhausted affair. Lots of eyerolling, but not much energy for actual fireworks.
The real problem, from my perspective, about the first day of school is that for some children it's the first EVER day of school. This means a throng of -- there's no getting around this -- mothers gathered around the school gates weeping.
It looks like a reenactment of the Rudy Valentino funeral.
And it makes parking a bloody nightmare, because instead of parking, walking the wee tots to the assigned walk-them-in spot, kissing them with maternal tenderness on the fore'ead, and departing for parts unknown, they walk the wee tots to the assigned walk-them-in spot, kiss them with maternal tenderness on the fore'ead and both cheeks and then repeat this bussing cycle 4-5 times, and go beyond the gates to stare and weep as if they had just handed over the little darlings to Dr. Mephisto and His Evil Medical Experiments. More importantly, they do not vacate their parking spaces which, because there are far fewer of these spaces than there are wee tots, means an ever increasing contingent of parents -- some growing more lachrymose and some (hi!) more irritable -- must circle like underfed makos for the rare opportunity to station the vehicle within reasonable walking distance for our lad.
Our lad, incidentally, must elbow and push -- thiose who know NTS will readily attest this is NOT something that engages his conscience's dilemma mechanism -- his way past the contingent of people photographing the Very First Time The Wee Tot Listened To The Loudspeaker In The School Courtyard. There is less photography going on at a Presidentian inauguration.
But we have survived, again.
-J.
The real problem, from my perspective, about the first day of school is that for some children it's the first EVER day of school. This means a throng of -- there's no getting around this -- mothers gathered around the school gates weeping.
It looks like a reenactment of the Rudy Valentino funeral.
And it makes parking a bloody nightmare, because instead of parking, walking the wee tots to the assigned walk-them-in spot, kissing them with maternal tenderness on the fore'ead, and departing for parts unknown, they walk the wee tots to the assigned walk-them-in spot, kiss them with maternal tenderness on the fore'ead and both cheeks and then repeat this bussing cycle 4-5 times, and go beyond the gates to stare and weep as if they had just handed over the little darlings to Dr. Mephisto and His Evil Medical Experiments. More importantly, they do not vacate their parking spaces which, because there are far fewer of these spaces than there are wee tots, means an ever increasing contingent of parents -- some growing more lachrymose and some (hi!) more irritable -- must circle like underfed makos for the rare opportunity to station the vehicle within reasonable walking distance for our lad.
Our lad, incidentally, must elbow and push -- thiose who know NTS will readily attest this is NOT something that engages his conscience's dilemma mechanism -- his way past the contingent of people photographing the Very First Time The Wee Tot Listened To The Loudspeaker In The School Courtyard. There is less photography going on at a Presidentian inauguration.
But we have survived, again.
-J.
Comments
He never turned back (aprox 200 steps down to classes) and I promptly left. Mothers will hang there and all over the steps until it's time to pick their children up!!!
Said son is now in 5th grade and happy not to have a clingy mom.
And then we complain our children boss us around???
HA!
There may be a tear but it certainly won't be shed in public or anywhere near the school gates. Who am I kidding. That tear will only be from the lime I'm pulverising into my celebratory mojito.
I believe this is why we are blogging companions.
"Dear Academic Establishment: Here they are. YOU deal with them, and see how YOU like it."