A couple of weeks ago my wife and I reached a milestone in our lives as parents. Our youngest child "graduated" from elementary school, placing us in an elite category of parenthood that we have waited over a decade to achieve – no more "little kids" in the house.
For 13 years we have had a child walk (and at times terrorize) the halls of an elementary school somewhere in North Carolina – East Bend, Winston-Salem, Southport, and Wilmington. From Fall Creek to Bradley Creek, the Griggs' kids have maintained a steady presence in these sacred halls of public education.
The recent graduation of my oldest daughter from high school was a moving experience, one that put us in a whole other stratosphere of higher education and the costs associated with it. Yet even that momentous occasion is in a different category than that of whisking your last child from the insular halls of elementary education. I know that my kids learned loads of bad habits and not a few unsavory words while plodding from kindergarten to fifth grade, but there is something to be said about the innocence that is found in the classrooms of primary school.
There is an almost ridiculous excitement shared by most elementary school students regarding the idea of simply going to school. They don't hate it. Rather, they relish it and for the most part you rarely have to fight them to get them there. Children arrive home with bags crammed with correspondence ranging from PTA events to field trips to school fund raisers, all of which they are incredibly passionate about. Who knew the joy and pride that would result from winning a cheap rubber duck as part of a fundraiser that involved jumping rope in the gym?
In elementary school, teachers know the parents by name. Emails detailing weekly classroom objectives arrive at a regular clip and there are personal notes scrawled on quarterly report cards that get sent home. Regular appeals for the need for chaperones or classroom supplies come from these men and women that you feel are almost part of your family. The students, in turn, adore their teachers and beg to give them gifts come Christmas time. Homework sheets become family affairs at the dinner table, with paper mache projects and posters for book reports turning into weekend projects. Who knew schoolwork could actually be fun?
Then middle school happens and it all ends overnight.
Somewhere in the universe a giant switch gets flipped that turns otherwise adorable little children into pre-teen hormonal creatures that make life more challenging for the next several years than you could ever imagine. To make the situation even more dire, it was decided that acne was necessary for 12-14 year old faces and braces would be the perfect remedy for completing the socially awkward trifecta. Middle school math is about as easy as quantum physics and I no longer have a clue as to who my child's many teachers are. Where did my innocent little elementary child go and why is that sixth grade girl a foot taller than my son?
As my wife and I sat in a cramped auditorium watching these precious children walk across the stage to receive their fifth grade promotion certificates, I couldn't help but glaze over a bit at what seemed almost like the end of an era. Change is inevitable and it is true that you can't keep them little forever, I just didn't know if I was ready to leave all of the kid stuff behind for good. Was this really the end of Fall Festivals in October and field days in late May?
There are times when I wish I could bottle up the past and pull the cork whenever I needed a fix of the good old days. My wife snickers at my idealistic romanticism, and in turn I try darn hard to keep it in check so that I can function in reality. What I don't want to miss – what I will strive to not lose or forget – is that healthy appreciation for when life was indeed much more simple and times appeared to be more innocent. And I do this not because I am naive or out of touch but rather because I remember what it was like to be child when my brain had yet to be cluttered with all of the junk that this world tries feverishly to pour into it. Long live field day!
For 13 years we have had a child walk (and at times terrorize) the halls of an elementary school somewhere in North Carolina – East Bend, Winston-Salem, Southport, and Wilmington. From Fall Creek to Bradley Creek, the Griggs' kids have maintained a steady presence in these sacred halls of public education.
The recent graduation of my oldest daughter from high school was a moving experience, one that put us in a whole other stratosphere of higher education and the costs associated with it. Yet even that momentous occasion is in a different category than that of whisking your last child from the insular halls of elementary education. I know that my kids learned loads of bad habits and not a few unsavory words while plodding from kindergarten to fifth grade, but there is something to be said about the innocence that is found in the classrooms of primary school.
There is an almost ridiculous excitement shared by most elementary school students regarding the idea of simply going to school. They don't hate it. Rather, they relish it and for the most part you rarely have to fight them to get them there. Children arrive home with bags crammed with correspondence ranging from PTA events to field trips to school fund raisers, all of which they are incredibly passionate about. Who knew the joy and pride that would result from winning a cheap rubber duck as part of a fundraiser that involved jumping rope in the gym?
In elementary school, teachers know the parents by name. Emails detailing weekly classroom objectives arrive at a regular clip and there are personal notes scrawled on quarterly report cards that get sent home. Regular appeals for the need for chaperones or classroom supplies come from these men and women that you feel are almost part of your family. The students, in turn, adore their teachers and beg to give them gifts come Christmas time. Homework sheets become family affairs at the dinner table, with paper mache projects and posters for book reports turning into weekend projects. Who knew schoolwork could actually be fun?
Then middle school happens and it all ends overnight.
Somewhere in the universe a giant switch gets flipped that turns otherwise adorable little children into pre-teen hormonal creatures that make life more challenging for the next several years than you could ever imagine. To make the situation even more dire, it was decided that acne was necessary for 12-14 year old faces and braces would be the perfect remedy for completing the socially awkward trifecta. Middle school math is about as easy as quantum physics and I no longer have a clue as to who my child's many teachers are. Where did my innocent little elementary child go and why is that sixth grade girl a foot taller than my son?
As my wife and I sat in a cramped auditorium watching these precious children walk across the stage to receive their fifth grade promotion certificates, I couldn't help but glaze over a bit at what seemed almost like the end of an era. Change is inevitable and it is true that you can't keep them little forever, I just didn't know if I was ready to leave all of the kid stuff behind for good. Was this really the end of Fall Festivals in October and field days in late May?
There are times when I wish I could bottle up the past and pull the cork whenever I needed a fix of the good old days. My wife snickers at my idealistic romanticism, and in turn I try darn hard to keep it in check so that I can function in reality. What I don't want to miss – what I will strive to not lose or forget – is that healthy appreciation for when life was indeed much more simple and times appeared to be more innocent. And I do this not because I am naive or out of touch but rather because I remember what it was like to be child when my brain had yet to be cluttered with all of the junk that this world tries feverishly to pour into it. Long live field day!
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