Twenty-Four Years: A Journey

Twenty-four years ago, in September of 1995, my oldest child started kindergarten.  I remember thinking on that day that the next 13 years would be filled with so many memories and opportunities, but that it all seemed like it would take  such a long, long time.  In 1995 I only had three kids.  I had no idea then, that two more would come along to complete the brood! 

With Savannah we experienced all of the “first things” with the enthusiasm and energy parents of 1st borns and onlies have buttoned down.  We learned so much about teachers, friendships, extracurriculars, group projects, Raider Pride and what it means to be part of an amazing school district in small town USA.  We didn’t realize how great things were here.   That came in time, and with more experience.

When Fiona started school, we met new teachers, made new friends, and expanded our world a little bit more.  We had brought our overzealous parenting of school aged students down a notch or two,  but still,  the energy was high, and parent teacher conference nights became longer, as we navigated not one class, but two.   Elsa came along while Fiona was in 1st grade, shortly before her teacher gave birth, which is not important really, except in this small town, those 2 girls became friends later in life.

By 1999, Olivia was starting school.  We had gone from one on one to zone defense as parents, but Liv was easy going and laid back and made parenting three pretty easy.   Our enthusiasm for  public education had not flagged.  We were well known  up at Seymour, the family with all the girls, and by the time Olivia was attending we knew the routine.  We looked forward to the Thanksgiving Feasts, holiday parties, gingerbread houses and field days.  We knew by this time that the grade level musical performances were events that mandated the ole shoulder mount video recorder, which was also a must have on the 1st days of school, much to all 3 girls horror!  During these years, The Boy was born, and the teachers at Seymour celebrated and marveled with us at such a turn of events! 

All four girls were in school the day the Twin Towers fell.  But they were safe.  Protected and oblivious as the world changed around us.  It never occured to me to get them out early and  bring them home to the relative safety we all believed we could provide.   As school shootings happened and lock down drills became  part of life, I felt fortunate to live in a place where my children were known and loved, and where I knew their teachers and staff would protect them in any way possible.  I also knew those same people watched out for them when life changed for our family.

In 2003 we had kids in 2 schools.  Savannah was at the new middle school and Fiona, Oliva and Elsa were at Seymour.  Elsa began these years with her best friend LIbby, whose older sister and family we met during Fiona;s earliest school years. And so we walked into the halls of Seymour with old friends, and felt far less nervous about the experience.  Elsa had been waiting to start school with the big girls since she was about 2 ½ and she was comfortable with the teachers and routine, as she had attended countless holiday parties during her first 5 years of life.  Elsa flourished with academic endeavors and was in awe of their Principal, Mrs. Blair, a diminutive dynamo, who had a no nonsense approach that was both intimidating and awe inspiring. 

By the time The Boy started school, we were familiar with all levels of public education from elementary school  to high school.  Before he was 5, Noah had been to each of the different schools more times than he could count, if he had been  able to count, which he likely couldn’t, I don’t remember, because honestly, he was the last of five and my bar for parenting had lowered just a smidge since #1.  Although, upon more careful reflection, I know he could count, because Elsa and her best friend loved to play school, and Noah was the only pupil available to attend,  so thanks to that little endeavor, largely run by Libby, Noah was able to count and knew his letters-ish.

Over the years we came to look forward to school  all of the small town school related traditions;  the 4th grade wax museum, sixth grade camp, grade level musical productions, (Lewis and Clark was a real standout in this category),  report card A’s used for  free movies, 6th grade graduation, the Christmas Collage Concert, Fruitcake concert, the annual Art Show in May, where  our elementary aged kids always had some masterpiece hanging to be enjoyed. The musical productions, and other theater events. Homecoming events, parades,  Powder Puff games, dances, Raider Games  and all the milestones and celebrations of senior year. 

Twenty four years.  Twenty four years, some of which lasted longer than others, but mostly, looking back, seem like a blink.  Trite, I know.  But so, so true.  I can still see Savannah’s face in the bus window as it drove past our house without stopping on her first day of kindergarten. The wide eyes and smile, not an ounce of worry that she did not get dropped off as planned.  Every memorable moment is still so fresh in my mind.  Which is astounding considering I have no recollection of a conversation I had with someone just last week.  I also don’t know where my address labels and open house list went, but those things are not the things that matter in this world. 

Moments and  memories and milestones and momentous occasions that marked the passing of time and growth and celebration.  Those things are what matter.  Those things I remember so very clearly. 

Two weeks ago, The Boy got up and attended school for the last time.  For him it was a milestone just like all of his sisters’.  His last  day was filled with picture taking, good-byes to beloved teachers, conversations and thanks to support staff and Administrators who have invested in his life here these four years. His day was not filled with tearful farewells.  He is an optimist; confident that the people who matter to him today, will continue to matter to him moving forward.  He is right, mostly. 

As Noah moved through his last day, and proceeded  through the next week of ceremonies and events, I have been left feeling as though I’m living someone else’s life.  There is so much in these last things that is surreal for me.  Eleven years ago I experienced all of these “lasts” for the first time with Savannah.  Then every two years-ish, with each child that followed.  Each of those experiences were unique in the people who surrounded them, the accomplishments, interests, awards and such.  But they have all also held so many familiar ceremonies and celebrations  Traditions that Noah is moving through with enthusiasm and a bit of nostalgia while I am trying to stay present, and somehow stop the movie reel of all the ones that have come before.  Last day of school, cap and gown pick up, Honor’s Night, Senior Brunch, elementary school walk (a newer tradition and one last chance to hoist up that old shoulder mount video recorder!) and finally Graduation, and in a few weeks, an Open House.  Ugh! 

Mixed with the pride and celebration of Noah’s years of school, is this hard to define pride and melancholy that this is the last time as a parent I will stand alongside one of my children and celebrate these 13 years of school. I am doing my best to stay connected in Noah’s moments, yet I keep finding myself slipping back in time into all of the other moments and memories.  The movie in my head running like an  old 8mm reel has me feeling like Clark Griswold, alone in the attic, as I remember and relive all of those moments again.  On the plus side, I am not shivering with cold on this trip down memory lane, although in truth taking this broad view of how incredible these last 24 years have been does give me chills. 

Today, was graduation.  The last of five graduations for this family.  The end of twenty-four years that have been filled with so much Raider Pride.  As a parent I am so proud of each of these five kids that have grown up in the halls of Flushing Schools.  I am also so incredibly thankful for all of the teachers and staff who have invested in each of their lives.  When the band began playing Pomp and Circumstance today and the seniors began their processional, my heart and eyes filled knowing this was the end of this part of the school journey for this family.  I am filled with gratitude, joy, pride and a small bit of melancholy here at the end.  Small Town USA has been a great place to raise this family. 

So now, we press on, into the next phase of life, which has taken twenty four years to reach, moment by moment, year after year, memory upon memory, in the blink of an eye.