School Daze - 2018

photo by Chris Sternal-Johnson / flickr

It’s just about that time of the year. School teachers are gritting their teeth—dragging themselves out of bed and turning off their alarm clocks. Students who have a  summer of freedom and fun wonder what the new teacher is going to be like. Parents are loading up their shopping carts on tax free days—and wondering how many fees they will have to pay this year. For some parents this is quite a stretch. And mothers, especially can breathe a sigh of relief that school starts and they will at least know where their kids are all day long.

In what used to be sleepy Clemson—the arteries coming into Tiger town and loaded with 

u-haul its and some even moving vans and a cluster with crammed-filled cars. School is cranking up for another year. I’ve been there and done that a multiple of times. In my own first grade. In riding the school bus that first day to high school and wondering…wondering. And then packing a footlocker, of all things, which would hold what treasures I had—and riding with my buddy to a new adventure. What would college look like? Fear and wonder got all mixed up.

But I’ve also had some other firsts. Sending off a daughter 400 miles away to college. Driving away from that daughter as she stood waving and getting tinier and tinier as the car moved toward home. My wife and I said little on that trip back. We both had enormous lumps in our throats. Both of us were wiping away a few tears. Back home her corner room was empty. I’d go by there and just look and grief would wash over me all over again.

Four years later we hauled our loaded-up van to Chicago where our son would spend four years. I remember the terror that filled my heart. What in the world were we thinking? What would this seventeen-year-old do in a monstrous place like the windy city? 

Back home now we had two empty rooms—side by side. Hers and his. And the old house that had rocked with their energy seemed totally empty. My wife and I rattled around the whole house from room to room. And it was hard.

But both our kids made it. Both flourished not under our wings—but from out from under our wings. Both stumbled toward adulthood. I remember their graduations and the old lumps that came creeping back. Both times there was a proudness and a gratitude that they had made it with minimal scars and were headed for their own adulthood. 

Back home we realized how much we enjoyed our freedom. The house might be empty but here was a wondrous quietude and peace when we opened our doors. Like our kids away at school—we could then do what we wanted. 

One of the hardest things we ever had to do was to let them go. I’ve watched other parents move in scads of stuff into dorm rooms or apartments. Mama would try to prettify things up. New bed spread. Maybe a new TV. New sheets and towels. Maybe curtains. Dad would just stand around trying to pigeon-hold his own grief.

But after the moving was over and maybe lunch was done—the kids time and time again would get restless. They wanted Mama and Papa to leave. To go back home. They didn’t want their new friends to think they were babies—even though on the inside many of them didn’t feel very grown up. felt that way. The parents often had a hard time with saying that sad goodbye. Need anything else? they asked over and over. The brand new college kids just nodded their heads. Nah.

The wise parents get in their cars and head home and begin to adjust to a whole different

photo by John Haslam / flickr

lifestyle. Surely it will take some doing. Yet if they let their boy or girl go—like the Mama bird must one day let the tiny birds leave the nest—they will have given their children an enormous gift. 

The funny thing is the parents also will give themselves a great gift. For many will have learned to loosen the reins—to acknowledge their kids are not little children anymore—are also growing up to changes they never envisioned.

The parents that hold on too tight, call too often—hover and maybe make too many trips back to see their children—cripple their off spring. Some of their kids might never really leave the nest. Some of them will stay little children their whole lives. It happens to even big strapping football players and beauty queens some time.

So parents—deal with your grief and letting go. Whisper a prayer that Johnny or Susie will be safe and do well one day. Most of them will surprise you. And when you stand as they march down some aisle in their graduation robes—you will be proud that one day years before you had stood by and let them fly away.

photo by Kasey-Samorel / flickr

—Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com