It's the Wednesday after Labor day in my town. Normally this means I'm up early, frantically racing to get Manda ready for school, ironing a uniform, quizzing her on the books she was supposed to have read during the summer, finding the other black shoe, and taking the obligatory picture on the walk in front of the school.
Not this year. Manda got herself up at 6:00 a.m., dressed in an outfit she put together on hangars last night, got her own breakfast, and packed her books and her notes on the summer reading assignment in her funky new one shoulder backpack. When I got up, she was sitting there, all ready but terrified. (Dressed in my vintage 1986 WBCN radio tee shirt, jeans that look permanently filthy and just the right adidas seakers. She has perfect hair and makeup, so no one will think she's a bum.)
As befits any proud teenager, she denies any fear whatsoever, but she's several shades whiter than normal (is that possible??), and I tease her that if her eyes bug out any more they're going to drop out and roll down the street. This gets it's usual laugh, but it's far more forced. I reminded her once again that both Daddy and I went to this same high school, with all the same rules, many of the same teachers and probably a few of the kids who were permanently kept back, and it was okay. The first day was tough, but within a week, we were experts on knowing the school, inside and out.
She studies her school floor plan like it's a treasure map - I refrain from telling her that the only treasure she'll find isn't on the map, it's in her head. When she complains that the lunches will be gross, I remind her that they can't be any worse than the ones in middle school, and she can always have a sub or a salad if the main course looks inedible. (Or be like her mother and have two white milks and an apple)
No picture today. It's pouring, and the child looks nauseated. Bob tells her she can have a ride today, instead of the walking route we went over during the summer. I look at the clock and realize she's in her first homeroom class of high school: She'll be surrounded by all the Vo's and the Vickery's; I sure hope she knows a few of them.
I think "Who is this person?" I was supposed break out plaid jumpers and little blue knee socks, and tie her ponytails with matching plaid ribbons. Then she'd stand proudly on the steps, grinning in the late summer sunlight as Bob took her picture. Instead I got one who is taller than I am, wears sneakers that cost more than the shoes I wore to my own wedding, and was contemplating applying for a parking space at school next fall.
We had out "first day of school" celebratory meal last night, because who knows what Bob's schedule would be. We went to the same restaurant we've been going to for ten years, and had just about the same things. Child was nervous, and compared notes via IM to many, many of her friends. We decided it was silly for a high school student to have a set bedtime, so last night she set her bedtime to eight p.m. I spent the rest of the evening calming down her friends, who were just as nervous as Manda.
At 2 a.m., she got up for a glass of milk and some reassurance. Of couse she got that and a big hug, as well. I don't know how much good I did, because she looked awfully tired this morning.
It'll be all right, I know it. I wish these transitions were a little easier on the kid, and I can see the next big one looming uneasily on the horizon: college. There's one I'm not sure I can handle with aplomb - more like tears the second she's out of sight.
But for now I'm okay. I'm waiting to hear which expensive scientific calculator she needs for Trig and Geometry, and the multitude of expenses that are the main feature of the first month at any school. Remind me to treasure these four years - if they're anything like the previous eight, they'll be gone in a moment.
Oh boy - 8:09 a.m. - time for first period, which is history. This is gonna be a looooooong day.
Kathy N-V