Yesterday, I registered my baby for school.
It wasn't going to be a big deal - a phone call to the school earlier in the day informed me that I just needed to come to the school with Griffin's birth certificate and his immunization record, fill out the paperwork, and whammo, school.
However, as I walked up to the doors of the school later that afternoon, the enormity of it all smacked me in the face.
This building that I was about to walk into was going to be the place where my kid, and later kids, spent the next ten years of their life. TEN FREAKING YEARS, people. It was more than a building that I was walking into. These people inside the building were going to educate my sons, teach them all the stuff that I can't (because heck if I remember how to conjugate a verb or find the square root of anything.) They are going to prepare them for the rest of their lives.
Suddenly I was nervous. Nervous for my children, nervous as a parent. What if this school was horrible? What if the teachers were awful? And even more nerve wracking - what if I haven't prepared my son enough for school...what if I'M really the worst teacher there is?
When I walked into the front office, I may have been visibly pale.
And then I spoke to the secretary.
From all my years of touring with a children's theatre company, I know that the attitude of the secretary is often a good indication of the temperature of the rest of the school. Cranky secretaries often indicate poorly managed schools, out of control kids, and disinterested teachers...hardly the place you want your babies to spend ten years of their lives.
The secretary at our school (ohmygawd...our school!) was nothing short of lovely! Perfectly pleasant. Happy to photocopy my documents. The other teachers that were hanging about in the office (also a good sign, when the teachers don't hightail it out of the school faster than the students!) we're also lovely. Ooh-ed and ahh-ed at Corben (well, who wouldn't) and had a really nice chat with me. The school was spacious, clean, warm. There was art on the walls. It felt like a safe place.
I breathed a sigh of relief and left the school feeling considerably less nervous, a likely a healthier shade of pink.
And then when I got home and looked over the little list of things that they recommend kids be able to do when they start school, I realized we were doing OK. We have a bit of work to do still, but I feel pretty confident that we've done pretty well in the parent department so far. (I mean, Griffin's Chaos on Wheels, but he can sure say his ABC's!)
So. School. It's really happening. We'll do an orientation day in the next few months, and get a chance to ride the bus all together before school starts (I think this is a BRILLIANT idea!) And then off we go.
Just because I'm feeling better about it now, doesn't mean I won't still be nervous as heck on the first day, and likely every day thereafter as my baby, who is so not a baby anymore, leaves my protective clutches. And, to my dearest son, I'd like to apologize in advance...there's a good chance I'm going to shed a few tears on your first day, as you step onto that bus and the doors close behind you.
Heck, I may have shed a few just now.