I survived my first day of middle school. Oh, and so did my kid. The one who actually went there.
I had to DROP HIM OFF AT THE DOOR! ARGH! Don't they know that it felt like ripping my uterus out of my body and throwing it on the sidewalk at the school's front door? Do you know how hard it was to say goodbye and drive away, not knowing what he'd face on the other side of the door? He may be almost twelve years old, but he's still my B-A-B-Y!
I cried all the way from Eleven's school to mine which, admittedly, is not that far to drive, but I was crying hard for the short drive. I sobbed to my younger child in the back seat, "Don't tell your brother I cried when I dropped him off." Eight said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'm sure he'll be fine."
And he was.
Although he doesn't have any classes with his best friend (but a girl he doesn't like is in three of them), he says that he had a good day. It was only a three hour day, but it seemed like forever to me. I was watching the clock the whole time I was greeting my own students, waiting for the moment when Mom would bring him over to my school so I'd know that he was safe and hadn't been stuffed into a locker by an eighth grader.
Eight met his new teacher today too and really likes her. He's excited about third grade, even though he's also separated from his best friend.
I'm very excited about my new class. I'm looking forward to a great new year, once I get my stupid surgery over with on Thursday. NOT looking forward to THAT.