School daze…

This morning, I got the call. Part of me knew it was coming, but I thought I’d have another year or so before I was faced with the decision, the question, the promises and pleadings. But no. Apparently, being a freshman gave her extra stand-up-to-mama powers – on Day Two.

Around here, your schedule in Jr. high is set in stone. If you’re lucky, you can switch from one teacher to another, if there’s room/reason/need and you have to jump through major hoops to do so. Part of the High School experience is learning to take charge of your own education, making sure you have the classes needed in line to graduate, as well as trying to get as many classes together with your friends as possible. It’s a fine line to walk, and I remember in my two years at the same school my kids attend now, feeling a little lost and doing whatever my councilors told me was needed. I can only remember one single class I switched out of in those two years – and it was my Senior year, because I decided I didn’t want weight training after all. I was a senior – I didn’t WANT a gym class!

Thus, I was a little surprised this morning to get a call from The Girl just minutes after her Papa had dropped her off at the front door. “Mom, would you be upset if I decided to drop band?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. In hindsight, the lack of practice this summer, and the fact she tried to hide from Ms. S. at orientation were a sure fire tip-off. But surprised I was, as a million things went through my head.

My daughter decided she wanted to play clarinet in the 5th grade band. We rented an instrument that year, to make sure she wanted to stick with it. The next year, for her birthday, her Daddy wheeled and dealed with a friend he worked with to get her a clarinet of her very own. He was so proud that he was able to trade one of his rifles for something for his daughter, something she really wanted. She named the clarinet Clarabelle, and was as thrilled to receive it as he was to give it.

It was the last gift he ever gave her – he passed away three weeks later.

And so, as she told me this morning that she wanted to drop out of band, there was a deeper emotional tug as well. I knew it affected her too when she said “I swear mama. I’ll still play Clarabelle at home… I just can’t handle Ms. S this year… is it ok?”

I had to think quickly, though the little waver in her voice nearly did me in. I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to change out of a class if I felt unable to handle a teacher. I was the type to just hide in the back row, grit my teeth and stumble through as best I could. I certainly wouldn’t have had the balls to call my mom and ask – though I know she would have been understanding and supportive… and probably made me stick with the class. (That may be my memory playing tricks on me – viewing life through aged teenaged glasses…) So what do I tell her? My little girl turning into a woman trying to stand on her own?

I questioned her quickly – is she doing this because her BFF is doing it? Are her reasons sound? Has she thought about it from Ms. S’s point of view? Is she taking the easy way out? Is this a decision for HERSELF and not anyone else? It was a lot to think about at 7:30 in the morning, for sure, on both our parts. In the end, however, I gave her permission to drop the class.

I’m not ashamed to say my heart broke a little bit when I did so, both for what she was giving up because of the emotional ties behind it, as well as for the fact that she was growing up so fast, and ready to make her first decision on that grown up track. Then the other reasonable though still sleepy part of the brain reminded me of something else – a benefit if you will.

In fact, the clouds parted, and I swear I saw rainbows backed by angels singing a hallelujah chorus as I realized what this really meant to me…

NO MORE BAND CONCERTS.

Maybe I should get that girl a pony….

Of course – you KNOW what happened while I was writing this, right? I received a text message from the Girl, saying she’s decided to give Ms. S. at least a year. She’s heard that she’s cooler in high school, after all. But if they don’t like it this year – they’re out next year.

Damn. There goes her pony!

The three best words EVER…

No, no, no. It’s not “I love you.” Heck, it’s not even “You’re not fat!” No, these words are the best words in the world to every mother out there (and if you say they’re not, you’re either crazy, or lying. Or both.) What are those words? Easy. “Back To School!”

Ah yes, that is a sigh of relief and contentment you just heard! Today is that glorious day for me, the one where it doesn’t bother me AT ALL to get up at 6am, because I know that I’ll be headed back to bed in just a couple of house. This morning, I gleefully texted the Boy to wake him up at 6:30 – repeating every 5 minutes until he lumbered into the living room, grabbed his hat and glared at me from under the brim … just moments before he made sure that I appreciated his newly found fashion sense, of course. Then it was back to glaring.

Meanwhile, I giggled helplessly as the ringtone my daughter asked me to record for her alarm came blaring at top volume from behind her closed door. The ringtone? My yelling what I normally have to yell when she has been ignoring me for 45 minutes and she’s late: GET THE EFF UP, NOW! My vocal cords are completely safe this year thanks to that lovely little recording device. What really set off the giggling though was the sounds of her floundering to find her phone on the dresser and turn it off. I can get used to these kind of wake ups!

The girl didn’t seem nervous at all this morning as they headed down to have breakfast with Papa before school. (I know. I don’t even feed my kids breakfast on school days – haven’t for the past 10 years, starting the 11th. Long story – we’ll just say that I’m the luckiest mom alive, and yes, you can be jealous! It’s normal.) After their orientation night, she seems to have found her footing, and is ready to branch out on her own with only 5 or 10 of her closest friends at her side.

The boy wasn’t nervous either. Just glaring. But he totally owes me when he comes home – and I expect him to arrive here with a Diet Coke in hand. You see, I already received a call from his councilor. My boy doesn’t like math. He does really well in it, but when given the choice between Geometry and Personal Finance, he wanted the later, hands down. They didn’t give it to him, so he went to see about it being changed and thus the call. Was I ok with this change? The Personal Finance classes were pretty full already….

So I went to bat for him. I explained that I know he doesn’t have college in his sights, he’s a different plan, and I think that Personal Finance lessons would be VERY beneficial for him in the long run. I asked that she try to fit him in if she could, because he’ll never use Geometry again, while the PF class will come in handy when I kick his little butt out of my house 2.3 minutes after graduation. She said ok, then hung up.

(I think I scared her a little bit. That makes me happy.)

I still found myself writing down the information for the Middle School, automatically, even though both my older children are in High School. I think that I’m in denial – I’m not old enough for this kind of stuff to happen. I just graduated last month, for heavens sake (where last month = 20 years ago) so I couldn’t POSSIBLY be old enough to have not one, but TWO high-schoolers in my house!

I know I’ll just have to get used to it – can’t stop time, and all that. Just don’t remind me that my son being a junior means he’ll be graduating next year. I’m not ready to admit THAT much yet….