no more first days

remember those rites of passage i talked about before, this month marks another one. this is the first august in 19 years i have not returned to the classroom. i have always looked forward to the beginning of school...most of us did. even those students who hated the second day still had a unique affinity with the first day of a new year. i usually got a new outfit, that was my favorite part of the whole day. usually, there was also the purchase of a new bookbag, which i would carefully select, knowing it alone possed the power to placement in social groups. or course, there was always paper, college ruled of course, folders, and pencils. i never really got into the mechanical pencils, just good old-fashion no. 2 and i was good to go. the day always began with a first day of school note from my dad; i still have every one he wrote. he doesn't write us notes often, but we could always count on one sitting on the counter and it always made me cry. the first day of class was fun as you found out who else was in your class, where you desk or locker would be and who you would have in your lunch. everyone had to share part of their summer activities; mine usually consisted of visiting my grandma in iowa or camping at the lake. others would share of disney world, the ocean or cruises, but i didn't mind. i would get off the bus with anticipation, knowing the best afternoon snack was always the one after the first day [i think my mom appreciated the silence again] and it was the only day of the year i really wanted to tell her what happened that day when she asked me. the next day my answer would become "oh, nothing."

this year, however, it was business as usual. i drove to work and saw freshly washed faces sitting on the corner; because this was of course, the only day you had extra time to get ready. i looked at their clothes, assuming each piece had been selected with care. bookbags hadn't yet known burdens of books or daily abuse. i am no longer a part of that world, or at least not right now. someday i'll stand at the front door, take the first day of school picture, and send my little ones off. but for now, i just drive by.

we took my sister up to k-state last weekend. i felt like a parent. i drew her a map of everything i wish i would have known about my freshman year. she is going into the design profession so she stepped into her first studio already armed with years of supplies. unlike my first year of college when none of us knew what to expect, we came prepared with duct tape, extension chords, sticky tape, and all the tools we wish we would have brought six years ago when i moved in. i remember feeling her excitement; a new start. a world of endless possibilities. but also a fear of the unknown. i wondered if i would make friends and who i would eat dinner with at night. who would be in my studio class and would i like my neighbors. funny how the things i worried about my first day of college, were little different from my first day of elementary school.

megan and i spent the weekend with amy. we ate at my favorite places and went running on the linear trail. we bought her the rest of her first day supplies [because you know studio professors always want you to get more] and made the mandatory walmart run. it was good to be back, but it made me glad my time was done there. i'm glad the last first day of class is behind me. i dreaded the goodbye, though. for the last five years, i have been leaving her, this time, amy was leaving me. seriously, how do parents do this? i wanted to protect her, i wanted to make sure she made good friends. i wanted her to know it's okay to stay in your room on a friday or bomb a test. i didn't want her to leave a crit to cry or feel abandoned by a friend. i went through each one and i didn't want her to feel that pain. but isn't that what college is all about? going through those things yourself? deciding what you will believe and what you take a stand for, even if it's different from what you've grown up beliving. discovering that your significance is not found in your grades or the number of friends in your facebook. parent's have to let us fall and hope that they've taught us enough that we can pick ourselves up again. i'm sure they want to jump in to help [and a lot of times do] but the real growth in us happens when they let us flounder only to figure things out ourselves.



megan and i left her there alone. we cried a lot. the three of us have become so close and it's hard to let her go. i know she will fall, but i am confident she will stand stronger because of it. i am so proud of you, amy. i miss you a lot right now. know that i love you.