Now we're Northerners: First Day of School

Today promised to be interesting, I thought as I woke up. It could even be good. Why not? I consider this for a minute. Jack and Katie are starting school today, and Cole and I will be at home together. He is so much easier by himself. Well, really, any of them are. Any two for that matter. Any two. Pick two. JUST TWO. And I'll officially be a "stay-at-home mom." For a while anyway. Cole is not in a preschool yet, and I haven't found a job yet. For the first time, in, well, ever, I officially do not have an office I am supposed to be going to this morning.

I get up rather enthusiastic, but, as you might predict, it was pretty short-lived. My enthusiasm for the day's potential came to a screeching halt when Cole peed off the balcony. It's very much daytime now. And we live on the third floor. With a balcony facing the street. And the leasing office, and the mailboxes. Dan spanked him - but not with any important magazines, it should be noted. He screamed like an official mourner on Broadway. I should be the one screaming! I'M the one who has to have conversations with all these people, and make nice to everybody around us so they won't call and complain to the office as they form a lynching squad along the way!!!

Katie then reports that Cole was "barking" on the balcony just prior to (or was it after? I get confused...) the peeing incident, and that "a man in a white t-shirt and jeans" - really narrows it down - was telling Cole to stop. Over and over and over and over, even though he could have kept walking and didn't have a dog or child-dog-barker of his own to get all worked up over another dog or dog-imitator. This barking is a new trick of Cole's, and it's remarkably dog-like. Nice and chihuahua like, too - really shrill and piercing. He is the best human dog-barker we have ever heard, that is for certain. It's usually fairly loud, but this particular time it couldn't have been too loud, or I would heard it through the cardboard walls-that-remind-me-of-dorm-life. Anyway, I notice Dan change his posture, which indicated he was looking to open a can of hurt on the stranger who dared attempt discipline on our child, or he was having gastrointestinal issues. I felt certain it was the former.

Dan asked Katie if the man had a dog. No. Was he alone? Yes. Was he doing anything? No. Really, now, like she would know that!! Then he asked her if he lived here. Seriously now!! He might as well have asked her to explain the laws of physics.

Based on Katie's testimony, Dan issued an edict barring Cole from further barking. He further proclaimed he "would have words" with this man were he ever to encounter him. That settled, the people were no less whipped up into a frenzy than before, as any activity on (or off of, as in the case of the peeing incident) the balcony seems to garner 97 times more excitement than the same activity inside. That, and we had the pressing burden of being at school by nine a.m.

Last week we had gone to the school for "Sneak Peek," and I had confirmed at least twice that no, school does not start until NINE A.M. This is so crazy to me. Heck, by 9:00 a.m., North Little Rock's Crestwood Elementary is serving lunch to the third shift. So 9:00 a.m. is a good crazy. I also learned that only the wretched are actually driven to school by their parents, and Lord forbid walked into school. Hmmm. This could be difficult for me. I'm accustomed to walking them into their classroom for the first day, taking a few dozen photos with teacher, friends, and in varying candid poses. Not to mention the dozen or so I've just taken outside in front of the school, with the school's name prominently above their little heads.

While Jack has pestered us for years about riding the school bus, he never fully understood what that meant: no air conditioning, waiting, waiting, waiting, lots of noise, no air conditioning, and, of course, no air conditioning. And the bus my kids are riding is - according to Julie the bus driver - "overbooked." Yeah, I'd agree with that since the seats all appear to have anywhere from two to nine children in each of them...But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So it's their first day at a new school, and in a new state no less (sometimes it feels like a new country, but we'll stick with the facts). We had met one of our neighbors, who indicated that yes, I might actually be the only parent who takes their children to school on the first day. Dan and I had to think about this. It was not an easy decision. The conversation went something like this:

"It's their first day, they don't know anyone! And if they ride the bus like everyone else they can claim their seats? You know, like Mawmaw and Grandad's seat at church?! The same pew every Sunday??"

"Well, yes, BUT shouldn't we take them? It IS their first day after all."

"Yes, but it's their first day and they should get to know everyone... "

"And if WE take them then maybe that will give them more confidence because Mom ALWAYS takes them on the first day. I mean, who doesn't take their child to school on the first day?? It's not like they're in 10th grade!"

"They don't know where to go do they? It's their FIRST DAY at a new school! Was that one time at Sneak Peek enough? Do you think they can find their way around on the first day??"

"Well surely teachers will be there to help on the first day, right? Will they even let parents in the first day?"

"I don't know. I just know it's their FIRST DAY, and we should take them."

It was settled. We would at least drive them there...

A few minutes before nine, we ALL load up in the Suburban. We arrive at Sarah W. Starkweather Elementary, amid the sea of school buses. We decide to draw less attention to ourselves, so Dan will stay in the car with Cole, and I'll walk them up. This is the part where the "new country" feel kicks in.

I can count on one hand the parents there. I could tell the difference between the parents and school staff because 1) employees of the school district had a badge prominently displayed; and 2) parents were standing awkwardly some 20 yards from the school entrance, clutching their camera, and looking uncomfortable. My heart is actually pounding!! Are my palms sweaty? That's funny...I'm done with school. I'M the parent here (think about being in court, think about being in court, think about being in court)!! As we step off the concrete median that divides the bus drop-off lane and onto the black asphalt, school staff start walking toward us. Not just one, but three. Then we actually step onto the concrete that makes up the entrance to the school, and now school staff are practically swarming around us: "Can we help you where are you going where are you going what bus are they supposed to be on where is their bus tag come here let me find your name on this list what is your name now we'll find it let's see here yes they are on bus 29 we'll take care of them..." And so on and so forth.

One might get the impression parents are not welcome.

I have Katie by one hand, and Jack by the other. I am not sure who's gripping who harder, but I'm not quite ready to relinquish my hold on my children just yet. I just kept repeating, "We're new we just moved here we're sorry for the confusion we don't know which bus it is they told me and they will ride it this afternoon no we don't know what color the bus tag is no I don't know which bus tag they should have we just moved to the area we just moved here we're new we just moved here." Someone found their names on a list, and pinned a yellow post-it note sized paper to their backpacks. "Bus 29!! That means bus 29! They'll get on bus 29 this afternoon!" Yay.

I could tell I was not welcome to walk my children to their classes. The front door was flanked by no less than four staff members on either side, and I could see through the double doors another half dozen or so teachers and staff just inside, you know - extra insurance no one but students came in! It was a very peculiar and unfamiliar feeling to stand there, with so many teachers staring, waiting on me to let go of my children and walk off and leave them there. I thought for a second about bursting through the wall of people, children in hand, and emerging triumphant on the other side of the double doors. But then what would I do? Would they drag me out of the place, kicking and screaming? I guess my children would be scarred for life, so after relishing the thought and the temporary victory, I let it go.

We just stood there clumsily, drowning in the din and lost in the sea of people who all appeared to know where to go. Very reluctantly I let go of their hands, and Jack walked off confidently, I thought. Katie looked a little less so, and looked back somewhat dubiously as she was practically carried through the doors by another wave of students. I realized I was definitely all alone in this swirling mass of Starkweather students and teachers. I turned around and walked to the car.

Cole was waiting on me, leaning out of the middle row window of the Suburban, barking, quelling any tears on their way. I reported to Dan on my experience, and we wondered aloud to each other if they would ever find their way to the classroom, and what their first day would be like.

First day report coming up next!