By the time you read this, my son will be starting his sixth grade year in school. It’s a new school for him so he gets a half day of orientation today and a half day Monday. The first full day of school for everyone is actually this coming Tuesday in my area.
I’m so old, I remember when you actually had to start school on a Monday and go the entire day. When I was his age, we didn’t do this communist half-day bullshit. We suffered through an entire eight hours and we were proud of it. We also walked both ways five miles uphill barefoot in the snow, but that means nothing to this generation.
This year, he’s got to choose between chorus or band. My son chose band, which makes me extremely happy as that was my path. He’s got to try out for whatever instrument he wants to play though, and he’s the least competitive person I’ve ever met so he’s not exactly going to be a section leader anytime soon. The middle school band class is around 500 kids at full capacity, which is kind of intense thinking about it. For reference, my middle school band was 100 kids total on a good year.
Yes, we were a town a quarter of the size of Knoxville but have some perspective, folks.
Anyway, this new school has a different car line policy than the previous one my son attended. In elementary school, kids were given hugs, kisses and a light boop on the head before being gently ushered out of the car into the waiting arms of elementary schoolteachers.
This new school has all car riders go down a large, winding road that circles around the back of the school and deposits children at the rear entrance with a nicely shouted “Tuck and roll! Tuck and roll!” before the young ones are encouraged to leap from their conveyances as if storming the beaches of Normandy.
We’re trying to encourage more independence in my son. He’s written a reminder to take his school supplies out of the makeshift staging area we’ve assembled in the downstairs toy room. The written sign reads as follows: “get supplyes out of the toy room befor school.”
No one said spelling or punctuation was a strong suit in my tribe. What’s important is the effort, dammit, and he’s doing his best.
Other electives this year include Spanish, Art, and Computer Sciences. I’m really happy with all of these as his sister navigated these for two years without any asshole teachers being rude to her, so there’s hope for my youngest. Of course, the difference between the two kids couldn’t be more night and day.
My daughter is the studious one who’s quiet and rarely talks unless she’s got something to say. My son is the class clown who loves to talk incessantly and crack jokes nonstop to get reactions from his friends.
Oh hell. This is going to be a year, isn’t it?
Y’all take care of yourselves and be good to each other. I’m going to go split a pizza with my son and see how his first day was. That’s the real American way right there.