Life of Wry

First day of school is tomorrow.  Peter starts 8th grade.  I am the one filled with anxiety.

I used to be sort of glad to see summer come to an end.. the return of routine and structure, and the predictability of the days.  These days, however, everything seems more of a struggle and I’m expecting a year of rough roads and power struggles.  Our darling, hormone-enriched teenager is far less manageable, what with having a mind of his own and all.  This junior high school business is a whole nuther level of independence, attitude, capability, responsibility, attitude, interests, motivation, and attitude.  I know y’all know what I’m talking about, so I’ll not go into detail.  It’s just a mixed bag.  Sometimes, he’s a sweet, polite, engaged kid who’s a pleasure to take shopping for school supplies and ice cream after… and other times he’s challenging things that are utterly un-challenge worthy and exhausting to be around.

But here we are; he’ll be leaving for the first day of school in exactly 9 hours and 20 minutes.  And, (1) he’s already in bed; (2) the get up time’s been agreed to; (3) the new backpack is packed with new binders and pens; (4) stuff he chose has been bought for the week’s breakfasts and lunches; (5) a weekly schedule’s been roughed out that allows for four baseball practices, plenty of social time, adequate homework time and even some media time; (6) we agreed to reasonable sanctions for failing to comply with a couple of workload management strategies (devised by his counselor at the end of his 7th grade year);  (7) we negotiated some rewards for hitting goals in the coming year (cash incentives, if you can believe that, very much a first in our household, but an experiment we’ve decided is worth trying, in spite of its feeling enormously crass and bribish); and (8) as you can see above, his desk’s been cleared (not to mention rebuilt and fortified) and is ready for service.

This all seems good and well-thought-out and organized, but that’s never the measure of a good school year.  It all comes down to his motivation and focus and whether the genuine interest he has at the beginning of the school year can last beyond the first semester.  And whether my patience can endure in the face of his motivational and behavioral lapses, and whether I can avoid turning into that shrew mama person along about the 3rd quarter.

So, I need to get to bed, too, since it’s also my first day of the school year.   Hopeful and optimistic with a clean slate…