Growing, Growing, Grown

Ryan McGuire via Pixabay

I've noticed that there are seasons on Facebook. Homecoming. Holidays. Prom. Graduation. Summer vacation. Each brings photos -- high school kids looking glamorous, smiling families, beautiful beaches, mountain views, diploma-wielding young adults -- and each can be a little bittersweet. Behind the smiles and the scenery are myriad emotions -- the escort that got away, the family member no longer at the table, the exhaustion that accompanies that triumphant hike to the top of the mountain.

Currently, back-to-school season and its companion, the college drop-off, are dominating Facebook. Excitement and anticipation mingle with a reluctance to let go of summer and an apprehension about what lies ahead.

I'm currently in my third college drop-off season with my first and only child. Freshman year was tough; we went from parents to empty-nesters in the space of one twenty-four hour period. We counted the days (literally) until Parents' Weekend, caring nothing about the activities the college had so meticulously planned and everything about wrapping our daughter in a hug and spending as much time with her as possible.

Last year was a little bit easier. She was ready to go back, excited to see her friends and less apprehensive because she had a good idea of what lay ahead. We had a wedding to attend in October, and so she was coming home for a weekend after a little more than a month away. We could do this. We had experience with the empty nest and it wasn't all bad.

This year, she was home for three weeks in May and two weeks in August. The summer was busy, which made it go by quickly.

And I'm not ready.

Isn't this supposed to be a progression? Freshman year is tough -- we expect that. Sophomore year, a little less tough than freshman year and so on.

So why do I feel as though I'm going backward?

If being busy is the antidote to missing my daughter, then I believe I've found a cure. The trouble is that overdosing on the antidote isn't good either. Before I knew it, all that busyness spilled over into summer, cutting short my already limited time with my daughter, leaving me unprepared for the end-of-summer goodbye that comes all too soon.

She leaves Sunday and, today, I find myself wondering whether it's the busyness of summer or the dawning of a reality I've dodged for two years catching up to me. When she left for college, a part of me knew she'd never come back home in the same way again, but I chose to put that information in a little box on the shelf until I could deal with it. Although I'm not sure I'm ready to acknowledge the contents of that box, her summer away from home has nudged the lid off, sending the essence of the adult life that stretches out before my daughter floating in my direction.

All of their lives, we talk about our children growing up. It's tough to see them go from infants to toddlers to preschoolers and beyond, but these are stages we expect. I even teach this stuff but, somehow, I never thought about the cusp between growing and grown. There's no developmental norms sheet from the pediatrician for that gray area, no textbook to discuss the attributes, no Facebook photos documenting that wisp of time.

But ready or not, here we are.

Alexas_Fotos via Pixabay

Time to Fly

Word Cloud from taxedo.com via "Roots, Wings, and Me"

There are seasons I really enjoy on Facebook. Prom, Homecoming and graduation are three particular favorites as I scroll through the parade of young adults I knew as children dressed up and looking grown up. Back to school is fun, too -- a season of new beginnings and posed photos in new clothes with crisp, fresh trimmings heralding the beginning of a new school year.

But beginnings follow endings, and these can be bittersweet. All the preparations that lead up to a new school herald not only a fresh start, but also the end of summer. The season of first day photos at the back door or under the dogwood tree has yielded to the season of packing up my child's belongings and transporting her to another state.

Last year, we grew accustomed to her being at school, transitioning back into the household of two that we were before she was born. There were benefits to this, of course, but it took most of first semester for things to begin to feel normal.

Then, in June, we grew accustomed to her being home again. It was a short summer -- a revolving door summer -- kicked off by her trips to London and the beach and characterized by her coming and going pretty much as she pleased. Still, she was here much of the time and the timbre and feel of the house changed as we transitioned from two back to three again.

Her impending departure brings mixed feelings all around. She is excited, ready to return to her friends and the studies she finds fascinating, not to mention the freedom that comes with living with roommates instead of parents.

It's a great feeling when your child has found her place, but it's tinged with sadness when that place is a train ride away. We're excited for her, but less prepared for the ending that this latest beginning brings than we ought to be, given that we've already experienced it once and we knew it was coming.

congerdesign via Pixabay

The process of giving our children roots and wings gives us as parents roots and wings as well. When our children are young, we dig in, building routines and traditions that transcend the places we call home, anchoring us as a family. As we grow together, these roots deepen and strengthen, creating the foundation for the wings our children will need in order to become who they are meant to be. 

Then, just about the time that the roots have taken hold, the sprouting of wings begins. Walking home from the bus stop alone. Getting a driver's license. Going to college. 

Okay, maybe not this. But post-adolescent flight
definitely requires a sense of humor.
Photo: Alexas Fotos via Pixabay

In the meantime, our parental wings have been clipped, and it takes time for the concept of our flying on our own to take hold. Theoretically, if we're wise, it should take less time after each successive, feathers-flying departure of our offspring to realize that we haven't lost the ability to fly ourselves; we've merely suppressed it. Sometimes, we need a nudge, just as our children did, to focus on our wings, trusting that our roots will keep us connected, even as we fly in a different direction.

Roots, while important, keep us earth-bound, while wings allow us to soar. After watching from the nest for a decent interval (which will, I hope, be shorter than last year's), I think I'm ready to test out my wings.

After all, why should soaring to new heights be limited to the young? 

A Special Invitation

This painting on the wall at camp by York artist Brett Greiman
honors donors who make Camp Pennwood possible.

Watching your kids grow up is a pretty cool thing. You see them go from helpless to tentatively trying things on their own, to a level of independence unimaginable when they were babies. Most of us get to see our kids become fully separate individuals, moving on to lives and families of their own, a bittersweet progression that leaves us both proud and nostalgic.

Those of us who are educators also get to watch other people's kids grow up, and, as with our own children, we have a special stake in the process. As these children and young adults pass through our classrooms and our schools, we get a chance to nurture them, watching as they grow and change, contributing in some small way to the separate individuals they are becoming.

If we're really lucky, we get other glimpses over the years as well. Concerts, sporting events, drama club productions. Graduations, college activities, weddings. As someone who spent most of her career at the elementary school level before moving on to teach at a college, I've had the amazing experience of meeting my elementary school graduates again in the college classroom, being a part of their lives at two very different stages.

My daughter, now a college sophomore herself, has spent the last two summers as a counselor at a camp for kids with special needs. Last week, she invited me to Friends and Family Day. Having been cut off from similar events after her sixth grade year, I should have been excited, but my first reaction was mixed. I still had so much  to do to get ready for my impending semester and a whole unchecked to-do list on my desk.

But she wanted me to go, and that was enough.

I might have been too foolish at first to recognize this for the gift that it was, but it didn't take me long to realize my mistake. My daughter and her friends -- many of them former students of mine -- were impressive. They were poised and attentive, loving and firm. They knew their campers. They knew when to exchange a smile and when to use a firm tone. They knew almost instinctively who needed help before they needed it, and when a camper demonstrated a need, a counselor arrived in a heartbeat to meet it.

But the best part was the fact that all of this happened in a lively, fun-filled environment. These young counselors weren't just about meeting the campers' needs. They were about making sure their kids could enjoy the experience.

As proud as I was of my daughter, I didn't miss the contrast between my kids and hers. While her campers' parents had seen their children go from helpless to tentatively trying things on their own, to a level of independence unimaginable when they were babies, many of them would not get to see their kids become fully separate individuals, moving on to lives and families of their own.

What had begun as a day to watch my daughter in action quickly became a day of gratitude. I was grateful to enjoy the opportunity to see what she'd been doing all summer; grateful to see my former elementary students as engaged and compassionate young adults; grateful to see that I'd raised a child who, along with her friends, was in a position to be a leader, one who could give of her talents so freely and naturally.

And I was grateful to see the campers in action. Just like the counselors and the parents, each camper brought his or her own personality, likes, dislikes and capabilities to camp that day. While there was a definite contrast between the futures of the counselors and the campers, amid all of the differences, there was joy. Joy in the accomplishments, joy in the interactions and joy in the celebration of a summer spent together.

Photo: Rudy Anderson via Pixabay

Today, the teachers I worked with side-by-side for twenty-seven years will start a new school year. It's the earliest start our district has ever had, and my friends are ready in some ways, not ready in others. Still, I have no doubt that the teachers who played a part in shaping those camp counselors I saw last week will work their magic once again, shaping a new generation of kids who will finish school ready for a level of independence unimaginable when they first started. Along the way, I hope these kids will not only improve their knowledge, critical thinking and academic understanding, but also nurture their own gifts of compassion, kindness and social intuition.

But above all, I hope they -- students and teachers alike -- find joy.

Friday Feature: Move-in Day

Pixabay

It's coming. The big change. The humungous goodbye followed by the teary drive home.

In less than two weeks, we drop my daughter off at college. I'm excited for her, and even for the all the last minute shopping for must-haves.

Part of the reason I'm even close to ready has to do with my voracious consumption of articles on what to/not to buy/pack. Those have set me up for the next hurdle: how to pack it so it all fits and arrives in one piece -- or at least as many pieces as it was to begin with.

Are you wondering the same thing? Check out this article by Lisa Heffernan of the fabulous Grown and Flown website.

It won't help make the parting any sweeter, but it might just help with that last minute shopping.

Absquatulating August

When you work at home, business hours are 24-7. It’s a hard habit to break, at least without a fair amount of guilt--even in the summer. I don't actually work 24 hours a day, but, because I make my own schedule, I'm just as likely to be working at 10PM as at 10AM. And, since I'm not a morning person, I'm more likely to be working at 7PM than 7AM.

Pixabay

Despite the fact that June and July signify summer vacation, I feel guilty if I'm not being productive at the same rate that I am during the school year because my primary job description changes. In June and July, I can focus on my writing, harnessing the full power of my creative energy to use in crafting articles and writing books. But I feel as though my creative clock is ticking. The guilt soundtrack plays mournfully in the back of my mind whenever I sit down to read, watch TV or just chill because I know that during the school year, some of that creative energy will be siphoned off for class planning, which means my well of creative energy sometimes runs dry before I sit down with my characters. So I have to make the most of June and July before they absquatulate, taking with them the longer days and adequate sleep (sort of) that allow me to access my creativity with fewer distractions.

But August? August is the collision of every aspect of my life in one crazy busy, messy month. At least this August. My daughter's summer job is winding down, so we're finally attacking some of the sorting/purging/organizing she's been talking about doing since May. This newer, leaner collection of possessions is counterbalanced (at least temporarily), however, by the acquisition of everything she will need to put her dorm room together--back-to-school shopping with a twist and a much bigger budget. 

Pixabay

We're taking one last quick family trip this month, too--a couple days in New York to see a Billy Joel concert and wander around Manhattan. Since the goal of August is to find the sweet spot that blends productive writing time with productive class planning and family time, my laptop is making the trip with us. Since I love writing on trains, whether or not it makes it out of the bag will depend on my family's chattiness and connection (or lack thereof) to electronic devices of their own, as well as our ability to nab seats that make writing possible. 

Pixabay

August also means it's time to get serious about syllabi and adding in all the fun stuff I've been collecting in a big, mostly electronic, pile all summer long. Compiling the links I sent myself all summer was a multi hour process--one that reminded me that I need to be specific in my subject lines from now on to save myself time when I harvest all those cool ideas in August and figure out where to integrate them. Still, this process got me excited about doing old things in new ways and moving my classes closer to the ideal I envision.

All of this--including back-to-school shopping, to a certain extent--is normal August stuff which has so far managed to distract me from the big August event, which is my daughter's departure for college. She finishes work this week and, next week, we have one (last) full week to enjoy each other's company, get in each other's way, finish up all the shopping, start the packing and do all the myriad things that keep popping into my head as the month progresses. I know we're not the first family to do this, or the only family in the process of doing it right now. But it's our first time, and it feels enormous. I've been so focused on the excitement of what lies ahead for her and the mechanics of getting everything together that the reality of this life change has come to me only in small snippets. 

Pixabay

It's probably better that way. Just as this busy August full of all the usual stuff (and a few surprises) has kept me focused on the big picture, where I am, admittedly, most comfortable, so has it reduced the drama leading up to the final countdown. But now, here we are, and I can feel my bravery crumbling. There aren't enough characters, articles or syllabi in sight to block the view of the bridge my daughter will be crossing. As long as I'm creating one more to-do list, checking off one more set of tasks, purchasing one more necessary item, I can live in the fog beside the bridge, knowing she's going, but not having to face it.

In just two and a half weeks, I'm going to have to face it.

Tichnor Brothers Post Card Collection
Boston Public Library
digitalcommonwealth.org

Awful August

Yesterday, I was checking out the back-to-school sales at Staples. I love school supplies, back-to-school shopping and sales. I ran into a former colleague and had a fun, on-the-fly chat. The day was sunny--hot, but sunny--and it was Sunday, so the whole day was at my disposal. I had few complaints.

Today, it's August 1. MONDAY, August 1.

That hardly seems fair.

Today, it's gray--not raining (yet), but gray--and I felt overbooked before I got out of bed. The meme at left, while perfectly reflecting my feelings, did give me a little chuckle when I found it on a friend's Facebook page. Marilyn's a teacher, too, so she knows that turning the calendar page to August means it's time to get serious. The former colleague I ran into at Staples yesterday knows this, too. She was planning on working on her classroom today.

Though my days of putting together an office at school are behind me, August still means putting things together. These days, it's syllabi and reading lists, Moodles and presentations. None of this is difficult, but all of it means that the great ideas I've been planning in my head (where details don't matter, so it's not a problem if they're not fleshed out) need to be transferred to paper where they'll need to have goals and objectives and be attached to due dates. As a big picture person, I get a stomachache just thinking about it.

Pixabay

This month is a wake-up call in more ways than one. August means nudging my body back into a sleep schedule that doesn't come naturally. The longer days of summer are perfect for night owls like me who get a second wind sometime around 7PM. During the summer, if I choose to ride that second wind until midnight, there's no alarm clock to fear the next day. During the semester, when I ride the second wind until midnight (as I invariably do), I pay for it the next day, and the sleep deficit grows larger as the week progresses. August means acknowledging that the world operates on a different schedule than I do.

cliparts101.com

And this August means a new kind of back to school at our house. In three weeks, we'll be dropping my daughter off at college. She's ready and I'm as ready as I can be, but as the summer winds down, the reality of this departure keeps sneaking up on me and hitting me over the head when I least expect it. Last Friday night, for example, we did some dorm supply shopping, which was fun--until I got home and we began unpacking our purchases and reality hit. Since March, I've been almost unequivocally excited about all the adventures that lie ahead for my daughter, but, now that it's August, equivocation has set in. I'm going to miss her and life is going to be very different.

I still have almost a month to ease into these changes, though. Between now and the end of this month, we'll visit my parents, spend some time as a family in New York City, see Billy Joel in concert and celebrate my birthday. And, because August also means that crisp, cool fall weather is just around the corner, this month I dread will give way to my favorite season of all.

Now that I can get behind.