Last night was TRC’s Kindergarten open house, a chance for parents to bring their new Kindergarteners to the school and let them check out their class, meet their teachers, look at the school–the whole shebang. TRC was extremely excited. The highlight of the evening for him was getting to go on a REAL SCHOOL BUS. He just couldn’t believe he was finally able to do something quite that awesome. It was fun watching him run up and down the aisle, pick different seats, talk to his friends about how excited they are.*
Of course, being back on a school bus brought back memories of my own. Crazy how even the smell (is it fake leather?) can take you back twenty years. The other parents on the bus started commiserating about where they had sat. (I was a middle of the bus guy–not far enough back to anger the cool kids but not far enough forward to have too many people think I was a dweeb. Not that that worked–people still thought I was a dweeb. But it didn’t stop me trying to avoid that label.
Which leads me to my next thought–my fear for TRC as he embarks on his school adventure. I look back on the whole experience as a very positive one, but I also know that, well . . . kids can be really mean. I worry that some brat might be mean to my son, and that there’s nothing I can do to shield him from that. I worry that my son might be a brat to someone else–and while I can do my best to teach him not to do that, I still won’t be there to see if the training sticks. TRC is a great kid. He’s full of energy, confidence and curiosity. I think he’ll do great in school, but that still doesn’t stop me from worrying.
Anyway–Monday’s the big day. Wish him (and me) luck!
*On a side note, I think this whole open house idea would be really cool for adults, too. What would it be like if adults could show the kind of emotion 5 year olds can put out? You’re hired on as a new employee, and you get to go a week early and have the place to yourself for an hour. Run through the halls. Sit in your chair and spin around a bunch. Pretend to type at your computer. When does that enthusiasm stop, exactly?