Back To School

The hum of diesel engines has returned to Main Street with the swift flow of yellow school buses in the morning. There is something magical and nostolgic about “back to school” season. It is as if summer’s door instantly clamped shut with the dawning of labor day, giving us a sudden briskness in the air and the sounds of school bells reminding us that classes have begun. The leaves are changing from their waxy, green glow of August to the golden shades of fall. This is a time that reminds me of my own days as child, and all of those mornings on my front porch growing up, posing for my first-day-of-school photo with my Mom.

I remember the questions I would ask myself before school started each year and the plans and promises I would make to myself. As a little girl,  I wondered if I would like my teacher and if my teacher would like me. I wondered who I would sit with at lunch and what I would do if I had nobody to talk to at recess. As an older student, I remember promising myself that I would do my homework every night and that I would never lose my “Trapper Keeper,” and the expensive T81 calculator my parents just purchased. I also remember the teachers that I truly loved, those individuals who changed my life forever, providing me with real lessons that have enriched my life.

Looking back, there were some teachers that I did not like, and some that probably did not like me. Most days I did find someone to sit with at lunch, and play with on the playground. I know I went through several rounds of binders, folders, books that belonged to the school that disappeared someplace between my desk and our couch, and many calculators that ceased to work due to being covered in grape jelly. Keeping track of my school supplies and general classroom paperwork was not my specialty as a student.

Now, as a parent, I see the eyes of my own little girl, just beginning her journey as a student. I took her picture on our front steps this morning and was overcome with joy, pride, and a bittersweet reminder that time is passing without my suggestion or permission. My daughter stood before me with her bright, brown eyes shining. Her world is growing larger, and there will be more people of significance to her in the years to come – her teachers, her friends and new people she will seek guidance from. There is a great deal I can help her with, but a great deal I cannot. If there was a way for me to plan her way, and make sure all goes smoothly, I would gladly do it. However, I know this is not the way life works. It is my turn to be her encourager, her leader, and forever her mom who is filled with love for her, but it is her job to create her path, and to share her own spirit in her world that is blossoming. As I grow older and am fortunate to witness the everyday miracles of motherhood, I am amazed by the gift of love our children bring into our hearts by allowing us to view the world through their eyes. The eyes of our children reflect a glimpse of our own spirits.

The bright, brown eyes of a kindergarten beauty on our front steps is my miracle for today. I am grateful and blessed. I welcome the school year that has just begun and the miracle of each little soul that will arrive to school in the morning.