First Day of School
It's the first day of school again. It's the last year of elementary school. Amazing. Where did the time go? How did my "little" boy grow from a scared kindergarten student to a 4th grader? How will I manage when he walks downtown next year to go to middle school?
I can remember his first day of school so well. He'd been walking with his dad (or me) to preschool three days a week for a couple of years and that walk was actually a bit longer. So the walking part was easy. Putting on the backpack and packing the snack...that was a little harder.
I remember the little ones lining up in the "multi-purpose" room (aka the "old" gym/auditorium). I knew he was nervous, but there were two girls from his preschool attending the same elementary school. The boy up the street was also there. He made funny faces and I think he was trying to make my son laugh.
They marched off together, through the kitchen area and into their classrooms. My husband and I walked home.
Kindergarten was half day, so we picked him up at 12:30. I can still see his smiling face as he ran to his dad. (Once his teacher knew we were there). My husband carried him home on his shoulders.
Every year of elementary school has it's memories for me. Spring in kindergarten meant a parent (or parents) going into the classroom and doing something special with the class. I read a story that I had written for my son about the giant sucker monster and then had the kids draw what they thought the monster looked like.
In first grade it was going back to see the teacher who had been MY first grade teacher. She hadn't changed; she was still fantastic and she was so concerned about my son because he was one of the youngest and very immature at that point. And of going into the class and having the kids read to us one by one.
In second grade it was art night which happened to fall during teacher appreciation week. I remember working with my son on the evening's craft and saying to his teacher this was some way to appreciate the teachers -- making them come back and work for several extra hours.
In third grade it was his teacher trying to build is confidence. We thought he might need some extra help, so he stayed after class on Thursdays with some other boys. He didn't really need the help as it turned out, but being a part of that something "extra" after school really helped him mature.
Now here we are in fourth grade. Memories are about to be made again. And I'm sure before the school year is over I'll be sharing them right here.
I can remember his first day of school so well. He'd been walking with his dad (or me) to preschool three days a week for a couple of years and that walk was actually a bit longer. So the walking part was easy. Putting on the backpack and packing the snack...that was a little harder.
I remember the little ones lining up in the "multi-purpose" room (aka the "old" gym/auditorium). I knew he was nervous, but there were two girls from his preschool attending the same elementary school. The boy up the street was also there. He made funny faces and I think he was trying to make my son laugh.
They marched off together, through the kitchen area and into their classrooms. My husband and I walked home.
Kindergarten was half day, so we picked him up at 12:30. I can still see his smiling face as he ran to his dad. (Once his teacher knew we were there). My husband carried him home on his shoulders.
Every year of elementary school has it's memories for me. Spring in kindergarten meant a parent (or parents) going into the classroom and doing something special with the class. I read a story that I had written for my son about the giant sucker monster and then had the kids draw what they thought the monster looked like.
In first grade it was going back to see the teacher who had been MY first grade teacher. She hadn't changed; she was still fantastic and she was so concerned about my son because he was one of the youngest and very immature at that point. And of going into the class and having the kids read to us one by one.
In second grade it was art night which happened to fall during teacher appreciation week. I remember working with my son on the evening's craft and saying to his teacher this was some way to appreciate the teachers -- making them come back and work for several extra hours.
In third grade it was his teacher trying to build is confidence. We thought he might need some extra help, so he stayed after class on Thursdays with some other boys. He didn't really need the help as it turned out, but being a part of that something "extra" after school really helped him mature.
Now here we are in fourth grade. Memories are about to be made again. And I'm sure before the school year is over I'll be sharing them right here.
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