Well, it happened. I registered my first-born for high school today (even though I’m only 23, so that was awkward.) I’m not sure either of us was completely ready for it. While I silently pondered questions like, “Am I hotter than at least 75% of moms?” and “Could maybe one person mistake me for a high-schooler if I had on sunglasses and they only caught me out of the corner of their eye?” Henry was having an epiphany. “Mom, I’m like 3 years away from moving out of our house. How do you be an adult? Like, how do you write a check? How do I know if this chair goes with the other furniture?”
We snaked through the lines and paid for activities, a yearbook, PE clothes, a locker (wtf, we have to PAY for a locker?) and loaded the lunch account. I followed Henry as he ran upstairs and down between the two main buildings that comprise Boise High, high-fiving and bro-hugging along the way.
I have to admit, I was back there for a minute. It’s all way too familiar, ya know? The cheerleaders with their big bows and too-tan legs, the goofy greeter from student council with green braces, acne, and a shocking level of self-confidence, the earnest girl handing out flyers for the BHS environmental club.
So, in honor of the wonderful misery that is high school, and the fact that it’s #tbt, I give you ALL THE HOTNESS.
My genuine hope is that Henry will experience all the trials and tribulations I did; the good, bad, fun, ridiculous, embarrassing, empowering, and memorable, so that three years from now he will have the life-experience to go out on his own with confidence (and know that OBVIOUSLY that chair doesn’t belong in this room.)
Due to a series of unfortunate events (which will remain undisclosed to protect the guilty) Henry is required to take one semester of physical science in summer school. Classes started today and run from 8AM-12PM for the next three weeks. Unfortunately, they are not being offered at HIS school, but at another school in the district located 10 miles from our house, or 20 minutes by car. So, in addition to paying for his own summer school class, Henry is also paying me $5/day to be his personal chauffeur (not nearly what I’m worth).
I think Henry was nervous. One, the school is unfamiliar to him, and two, I’m pretty sure he had it in his mind that summer school is only for hardcore delinquents (à la Lean On Me) and that he was about to be pistol-whipped by a kid doing blow off the teacher’s ass. I tried to reassure him based on my own memories of summer school, but I didn’t have a lot to go on. I believe I had to take an algebra class one year, but all I remember is an obscure snapshot of the classroom layout. Oddly, the image I have in my mind is from the classroom ceiling looking down, like I was having an out-of-body experience. I remember the class being fairly quick and painless, but apparently it’s possible I was unconscious for a substantial amount of time. Fortunately, Day 1 went smoothly and Henry said he feels like he might actually learn something in this [more structured] environment. He told me both the teacher and the classroom were nice and added, “We got to watch some real science clips with Bill Nye and not just YouTube videos of deer jumping on a trampoline or weird 80’s movies.” (No wonder my kid struggled on the standardized test but knows all of the lyrics to “In Your Eyes.”)
I anticipated this class would be a huge hassle but it’s really not bad – speaking as someone who has made the commute for exactly one day. It forces us all to get up, get showered, dressed and fed by 7:30AM… and during the summer, we can use a little extra motivation. We’re only a month into summer break and I’m already sick to death of forcing my kids (aka THE HUMAN SLUGS) to turn off the video games, get off the couch, and go outside. In fact, I think we may need to consider summer school every summer.
BTW – did you ever notice SCHOOL is one of those words you can’t look at for too long before your brain starts going, “WTF? Skuh-hooool? Shhhooool? SSS-chewl?”