Meet the teacher

People keep asking me how I am or if I am going to cry.
And few weeks ago, I kept saying no.
I mean, I am used to dropping Owen off everyday at school. Or I’m at least used to Shaun dropping him off.
I am used to school. I do it everyday.
But. The first day is Monday.
His and mine.
And I am not ready. And I don’t just mean that my syllabus isn’t copied and that there are boxes all over my room.
That would be true.
But I am having doubts about my kid entering this world. The kind with lockers and buliten boards and hall passes.

And tests.
A world where from now on, he will be receiving a grade.

Where he will be compared, judged, scolded, and ranked.

We met his teacher the other night. Turns out I taught her son not too many years ago.

Owen was off playing within seconds with a friend from his soccer team. Tearing the room apart.

Ecstatic when he saw a big tub of legos. He will be just fine.

But I wasn't so sure about me.

I was suddenly filled with questions.
The basic ones. Like how do I put money on his lunch ticket. Where am I supposed to buy that notebook they want that I can’t find at Walmart, Target or Staples? What time do they dismiss? Where does he go in the mornings? Do they have any school shirts in anything smaller than a small?
And then.
What if his teacher is mean? What if he never learns to listen and is always in trouble?
What if he never remembers the number fourteen and never learns to count to twenty properly?
Does his teacher know that he is left handed and sometimes needs his inhaler?
What if he can’t put the straw in his Capri sun or zip his zipper by himself?
Will someone tell him where to go afterschool?
What if kids make fun of him for being little?
What if he punches those kids for making fun of him?
What if he learns more bad words?
What if he teaches his classmates the ones he already knows?

Can he reach the water fountain?

Maybe I should have taught him to read instead of watching all those cartoons.

Or at least taught him how to tie his shoes and not given up and bought the velcro ones.

What happens if Shaun forgets the crazy dress code and Owen goes to school with plaid shorts instead of solid ones?
What if he starts singing Brass Monkey in music class?

mostly it boils down to this....
What if his teacher doesn’t love him and think he is the brightest and cutest and funniest little boy she has ever met.
Because I do.