First days

First day, last day, another day.

The first day of school: one a senior, the other in eighth grade.

Keep in mind that there are three others out there, doing their own thing. One film editing in New York City, the other analyzing data, writing, being married and caring for his own schoolboy in South Carolina, and another getting ready to begin her third year of law school. Having them out there impacts a parent’s perspective.

Every day is a first day, a last day, another day.

Here in this place, the senior drove off around seven in his Miata, the car he bought last spring with his own money that he’d earned at his own job bagging groceries. It’s been a nerve-wracking few months for me, because the Miata is a manual transmission. I first had to teach him how to drive it, and then I had to wait every time he drove off in it, praying that he would be able to navigate the dreaded hills without stalling and causing havoc. Waiting until the time I’d estimate it would take him to reach his destination, assuming that if the phone had not rung yet, it was fine, and just to be sure, checking online traffic maps for red spots and other signs of crashes.

After some months of this, I was not as nervous as I was this time last year, when he drove off to school (in another car) for the very first time – in a driving rain, as I recall. But I still couldn’t relax for those first twenty minutes or so and I still checked the online maps.

And here it is, 10:24 am – I think it’s okay to let down my guard now. Until, of course, from about 3:15-4.

But there he is, I’m assuming, beginning that senior year of high school. There have been big changes in his Catholic high school this year, and I am hoping they are for the better. It’s been an okay experience – not great, by any means, but the faculty line-up for his senior year classes looks good, and is, surprisingly, mostly male. Which is good for a kid who’s basically grown up without a dad on this earth.

(And for college? We’re not uptight about it. He’s got a path mapped out and is ready to take it. It’s his, and not for me writing about.)

The eighth grader was mostly ready to return to the school in which he attended 6^th grade. (To quickly review for newcomers: Catholic school, PK-1^st grade. Homeschool 2^nd-5^th grade. Different Catholic school 6^th grade. Homeschool 7^th grade. Reasons? Discussed in many places on this blog before but essentially: a smart kid who has been capable of so much more than the typical worksheet (and now Chromebook) routine of most schools, and a mom with the means and freedom to facilitate that. For the latest iteration, starting in 6^th grade? Sort of the same. A desire to go to school, but a disappointing experience. We’re confident, or at least very hopeful, that things have turned around, discipline issues have been resolved and holistic, undistracted learning is going to be the focus.)

I’m sitting here – relieved. For the moment, relieved to have the burden of anyone’s learning on my shoulders.

As I have written before, the discernment framework that helped me make the decision to homeschool a few years ago was this: Every choice entails some type of aggravation and stress. What aggravation do you choose?

It’s probably backwards from the process others employ, which undoubtedly focuses on the positive: What’s best? What’s going to bring the most happiness? What’s going to be the least stressful?

If that’s your angle, go for it. I’ve just found it to be more helpful and realistic to admit the reality of difficulty and challenges. Basically: every element of life involves some pain – which can you accept? Which kind of stress, pain and aggravation is going to stand in the way of growth less than other limitations?

So, in deciding to homeschool, I basically decided that the stress of guiding my kids’ learning and feeling more or less constantly inadequate to the task was more acceptable – at that moment – than being constantly enraged and frustrated about what was going on – or not going on – in the classroom.

So now, where are we? This wasn’t a problematic decision. High school has been fine, and just what that kid needed on a number of levels. He doesn’t need high-stress super accelerated learning. He needs mostly what he’s experienced. And there’s no reason to change that, not least because…it’s good to have someone else teach you calculus.

The eighth grader is ready to return to school for a year. (At this point, we are planning on road/homeschooling high school) He’s maintained friendships with the boys in the class (thanks, Fortnite!) and I do think the administration of this school is focused and realistic about what middle school kids need now in a way that wasn’t the case before. We’ll see. Between that and his music – three types of keyboard lessons (regular piano, jazz and pipe organ) – he’ll be busy.

And me?

I’m mostly sitting here kind of in shock. I’m already regretting some of the daytrips we’ve not been able to work in, even after years of me saying, this month, we’re going to…., I’m irritated that the senior English curriculum doesn’t seem to have a Shakespeare play in it (yet – I hope that will change), I’m looking at the clock wondering when to start worrying about the drive back from school, I’m waiting for the dryer to stop, waiting for Law School daughter to drop by, and mostly looking at a very, very, very blank page.

A first day, a last day, another day.