t has been about 5 years since I went to an open house, and I remember that last open house like it was yesterday. Silly me, I cried! My youngest was a senior and I walked out those high school doors knowing that was it for me.
I had never missed an open house for any of my boys. In fact, I looked forward to them every year. I would see the same parents I had always seen year-after-year milling through the halls and classrooms. It was somewhat like a reunion, and I truly enjoyed them all. And then of course, before I knew it, it was done. My last open house as a parent came and went. A wonderful chapter had quickly closed. Until of course, tonight.
Tonight, I did go to open house. And I went to this open house as a parent. But not the parent of a student. I went to open house as a parent of a teacher. My son Kevin teaches 6th grade science and social science, and this is his first-year teaching, and his first open house in that role.
I walked into a clean, and organized classroom with the most amazing projects on each desk. Kevin is a lover of science so yes, there are naturally more science projects, and I was blown away by the creativity.
There are books everywhere, he’s also a lover of books. There are charts, flags, and posters on the walls with all sorts of interesting facts that create an easy draw for attention. What student wouldn’t love this? He has a nice teacher’s desk with pictures, candy, and of course, papers for grading. It’s a cool classroom and I was impressed.
There were many students and parents coming in and out of the classroom flipping through books, schoolwork, and projects just as I had done some years ago. It was somewhat nostalgic.
But I was struggling a bit. I kept looking for that little boy. My little boy. The one whose desk was never organized and had crumbled papers spilling out everywhere. The little boy whose pencils were broke in half with chewed erasers. The little boy who had his name on the board for uniform demerit or homework detention. I was looking for the little boy who was completely disheveled in every possible way, dirty, messy, sloppy. My son.
Oh, I had to laugh because I did see a few that resembled him at one time. But, that little boy, my little boy, well, he’s gone. He’s gone in a sense, because somehow, some way, he managed to grow-up.
When you are a young mom, you worry about everything. You see your children’s patterns, behaviors, propensities and wonder how they are going to turnout and how will they ever survive. You lose sleep over some of the battles and struggles that never seem to go away and you worry yourself to tears. It’s not that they are bad kids, it’s just you wonder, will it ever click. Will the switch flip? And one day, it finally does.
Those anxious thoughts are all distant memories because, my mom was right again. He’d turn out just fine she’d say. Well, maybe she was a little wrong because he’s turned out to be a whole lot more than just fine. He has become one amazing young man and teacher. And tonight, I had a front row seat to witness it all.
Sincerely, the proud mom.