Back to School (Letting Go)

For many years now, it is in August I prepare for the upcoming school year for my children. Although the ranks are dwindling down – from five school children to only two – the procedure is always the same. With the first back-to-school ads we start buying the essentials for school. Deals on new shoes to new notebooks can be found around every corner. Unfortunately, for some odd reason, last year's old scissors, protractors, backpacks and binders just “don’t work” for my kids. So, out come the school lists and we buy everything bright, shiny and new.

Yet, the “first day” back to school always sneaks up on me. Without fail, I always wonder where the summer has gone. Every year I regret that there were so many things I wanted us to do, but somehow never got enough time. So it seems, the first day back-to-school always turns into a day of reflection for me. My mind inevitably rewinds to all the other “first days” taking my children "back to school."

The first days of Kindergarten seemed to be the same for all five of my children; John, Amy, Philip, Katie and Michael. They were all ready to go. There were never any tears on their part, just an excitement and wonder about what this whole “school” thing was about.

Like any mother, I was truly happy about this transition for my children. I worked so hard preparing them for this new adventure, endlessly looking for opportunities to teach them the alphabet, words, colors, numbers, and how to read. Off to school they all would happily go. On each of their first days of school, it wouldn’t take long before the teacher would have everything under control and it would be time for the parents to leave. Although I was happy and proud of my little ones, I would always find myself crying outside in my car, not wanting to drive home.

I am not absolutely clear as to why I always cried those first days. Perhaps, I cried somehow knowing that the natural separation had begun between the strongest bond I would ever know, that of a mother and her “baby.” They were “my” children until that first day of school. There was a painful knowledge that this “letting go” was to be the course I would be on for many years to come.

Yesterday, my youngest child, Michael, went back to school. He is in the eighth grade and will finish his last year at the school where he began Kindergarten. I am remembering his “first day” there. Michael was such a little fellow back then, but already so smart. I remember leaving him at his seat in his kindergarten room for the first time. I just didn’t want to leave. He turned to me, smiled and said, “Mommy, I love you. I am ready for school. I am a big boy now. It is OK to go home now.” Seeing the tears in my eyes he added, “I promise I will come home.” And, he did.

This past week my youngest daughter, Katie, started her first day of college. So many memories of her first day of Kindergarten, First grade, Second grade, Third grade, Fourth grade (and, well, you get the idea), all floods my mind. It is very hard for me to even write about.

As Katie drove away to her first class, she smiled and yelled, “Mom, it’s OK. You know I will be home later.” And, she was.

Pride, excitement and tears, still sweep me away.

This “letting go” that started with their “first days” of school has not stopped haunting me. I have been trying for many years to get this “letting go” thing mastered. I can tell you the truth, I haven’t.