On School and Feeling Nostalgic for Younger Years

“Do you feel more ready to send him to preschool now?” she asked. “No,” I said through barely held-in tears, even though I did feel better about it. It’s just that I thought I’d have more time before my three-year-old was in an all-day preschool program. I thought he’d be older. That we’d start with a few mornings a week.

We were at the graduation picnic from a pre-preschool readiness program for kids with special needs.

“He still naps every day,” I said.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied and hugged me.

And he was. I was, too, although now I miss three-year-old Tucker even as I celebrate almost-nine-year-old him.

On School and Feeling Nostalgic for Younger Years

“You need to walk away,” his teacher said as she guided me away from my little boy. He was crying after being disciplined ABA-style (applied behavior analysis) for swatting at another boy who’d invaded his personal space.

I sat in my car unable to move for I don’t know how long. Minutes? Hours? Somewhere between, probably. I wondered whether he’d be okay. Whether typical kids swatted at other for getting too close. That’s normal, right? I mean, I don’t like that either. I drove home.

Later, his teacher called to see if I was okay.

A million days later and also just like that, he was graduating preschool. Heading to kindergarten. He was fine. I was, too.

I feel nostalgic for our younger years though.

“We used to think it was autism,” I said. A few of the special ed teachers nodded their heads. They remember. The new ones hadn’t known.

We talked about ABA and preschool autism class and how rigid he used to be. Part of our therapy was to not let him always be first to go upstairs. “He’s different now,” she said.

And he was. Still him, but older. More capable. No longer swatting at kids for invading his personal space. These days, he’s more likely to invade theirs. Still challenges, but speaking. Communicating. Asking for water rather than “ah.”

We’re all different as the end of each school year approaches. Wiser maybe. At least more used to long days huddled in years that go by in a blink.

***

Once school’s out this year, we’ll travel to a new school, in a new home, in a new state. A new life? Nah, we’ll still be us, but it does feel a little like a new life.

My husband got a beautiful award from his job. With all the stress and worry of registering Tucker for a new school, getting our now-house ready to be lived in by people I’ve never met, and the everyday living of football, scouts, friends, and life, I hadn’t realized what a big deal it’d be for my husband to leave the organization he helped build. He said he got choked up while giving a speech. I’ve only known him to be choked up about four times in our 11 years together.

I can’t believe we’re moving to Colorado.

We’re celebrating here while here though, with parties and the continued tradition of a last-day-of-school watergun fight. This year, we’ll combine it with Tucker’s birthday celebration and pray it doesn’t rain because his whole class plus cub scouts plus neighbors is a lot of kids to be in a house that needs to be clean once the movers clear out the last of our things.

***
The day of kindergarten orientation, I emailed the teacher. “We need to come back when nobody’s there,” I said. “Tucker hid underneath my shirt. I’m worried he won’t recognize you.” It was more than that though. It was another step on the staircase of letting go. We celebrate as we ascend but I think it’s okay to mourn a little too. For the steps that will always remain behind us.

She let us come back in and sat on the floor with us. In just 10 minutes, she and Tucker were old friends. I’ll always love her for that.

I’ll always love all of his teachers.

Feeling nostalgic for younger years isn’t a new feeling as the end of the school year approaches.

This year feels particularly sad, knowing that the familiarity of the bus stop, the entrance at school, and friendly faces will all be new this Fall. Oh, and it won’t even be Fall when Tucker starts fourth grade. It’ll be mid-August, which is just wrong. Poor kid’s going to have a short summer.

I know he’ll be fine. We all will.

***

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post done with my fabulous co-host Kenya G. Johnson of Sporadically Yours, with the prompt “It’s the end of the school year, and…” It wouldn’t be complete without me sharing these two photos below. We had family in town this weekend, and went to the Dulles Air & Space museum. Since we used to practically live there, I knew there’d be a photo of Tucker with the astronaut. He must’ve been four in the first photo. Talk about feeling nostalgic for younger years while celebrating the current one!