Back to School

The boys have been back to school for a week now and they are adjusting to a new routine, early mornings, homework. They’re fine, but I’m exhausted.

Sport, who last year could have moonlighted as a product tester, has successfully made it through the first 5 days with his backpack in good shape. He has been very pleased to note that his new shoes still look as if they’ve just come out of the box. The verdict is still out on his lunchbox which failed to report for duty this morning. Sport, with a puzzled look on his face, said he was sure he returned his lunchbox to his backpack after lunch yesterday. Still, two out of three is terrific for Sport. Last year he was 0 for 3 by the end of his first week of school.

I found myself in Secret Service’s school yesterday, at the end of the school day. Secret Service only welcomes me into his world when I’m holding a check book, VISA card or cash. I was on the third floor purchasing books for his literature class when he arrived. Afterwards, as we walked down the hall, I asked, “Do you have any classes on this floor?” Secret nodded. “Which ones?” I asked. Obviously, I had pried too much. Secret shut down, too much sharing. His answer, “Something.”

The way homework works in our family is that if the boys need help, I assist with English, Science Girl takes on Science, we share Social Studies, and you’re on your own for Math once you get to Middle School. This week, Secret Service had to develop a speech, sharing information about himself in a way that was creative. At one point, I proposed that he do a rap. He said, “Only nerds rap.” I had lots of other recommendations, all of which he rejected. Instead of developing a novel way to introduce himself, Secret Service’s idea is to sit in the back of the classroom to avoid being called on. So far, that seems to be successful for him.

As a homework assignment, Sport had to assemble a “me” bag, filled with 3 – 5 objects that would instruct his peers about who he is. I was touched when I saw him place a family photo of the four of us in the “me” bag. He looked up, shrugged, and said, “I can’t find a picture of the dog.”