Poppa's First Day At School

Poppa’s First Day at School

My son moves to a new grade and a new school today. Perception really is reality. I am the sentimental old fool. He is the full of abundance positive thinker.

Sam and I took mom to school this morning. There was very little hub bub around getting us started. Sam is great that way. The alarm goes off, he gets up… “Thanks for another great day.” That’s my Sam. So far so good. I can feel the freedom of being officially retired beginning to swell in that mind neighborhood where everything is perfect. I made it! Yes!

No more worries that my students aren’t learning. That’s for some first year twenty something. Will they worry? No more angering about the poverty of the kids in my class. The politicians will solve that one. Raise standards, cut money. Complain that kids don’t measure up to Singapore. Genius.

Then I look at Sam. This is the first time in our family’s life that he and I will not be attending the same school. How will he do? Will he be safe? Will he make new friends? What if he forgets his bus number? Can he write? Cursive?????

I’m 107 years old so I don’t get sentimental. I’m crusty and tough. Sammy is so small. He’s a fourth grader now. You call that a “big kid” in elementary language. Still, he’s tiny in my eyes. “I walk by faith not by sight”. Not today, folks. Millions of kids are doing the same thing that my Sam is doing. Are millions of parents feeling the same way I’m feeling?

I have only one Sam. My only Sam. I’ve got lots of kids. Big kids, little kids, biological kids and emotional kids. Millions of kids are not my Sam.

Why the hell am I crying? Why am I having a hard time seeing? I’ve gone through this routine thousands of times before. Usually I cry in June. I’m not missing the classroom, especially since we stopped teaching people and started teaching tests and standard deviations. Kids have much more humorous attitudes. I don’t miss benchmarking kids whose parents won’t read with them anyway. I’m not upset that I won’t have to listen to “experts” who can’t spell the word, telling me “get them up to speed, it’s not about remediation any more”. Oh Yeah…. Who cares what they know. Push them ahead anyway. The corrections industry will remediate deficiencies. Ah! Administrivia! Why am I crying?

Life is good. I am blessed. Another change. More growth. Loss. Life goes on.

“Hey old man! I gotta go see my new friends! The bell is going to ring and I’ll miss the playground!!” That’s my Sam.