The First Day of School

All the photos of children going back to school make me nostalgic for those old days when I'd watch four little boys running up the hill and through the woods for the mike long trek to the bus stop. We didn't take many photos back then so I have no first-day-of-school pictures of my boys. All I have is the images in my mind.

Their bus came between 6:50am and 7:10am, depending on the year; the route was varied so that different children had the earlier time each year. A nice touch of fairness.

Winter meant a lot of walking in our first 10-15 years here. By 1990 the road was much better and we had to hike in very rarely.  This photo was taken about 1990, from halfway down the driveway.

We lived a mile from the bus stop, the mailbox, the electricity and phone lines, and for part of the year, a passable road. So the boys had that long walk every day to and from the bus stop. But they didn't usually walk; they ran. They could get from our house to the bus stop easily in 10 minutes and often did it in less. Rain or snow, it didn't matter--they were up and out and hoofing it to the bus. Some of their teachers fussed about their muddy shoes; well, my sons weren't alone there as most of the children in their school lived in very rural areas and also had muddy shoes. The boys took to wearing one pair to the bus stop, and changing into good shoes there, leaving the muddy shoes or boots in the bus house. Thank goodness for that little shelter. In very bad weather our neighbor would sometimes allow the children inside her house to stay warm until they heard the bus coming.

As the boys got older they also had morning chores to do. They would be up by 6am, dressed and at the barn lot to milk, feed the pigs, take care of the chickens and whatever other livestock we had. I would have their breakfast ready when they came inside, and their lunches packed until the year we finally signed them up for the lunch program at school. When our oldest was 15, we got an old Jeep Wagoneer and he drove them to the bus, a real step up.

George and Jon in the garden, summer 1976. Little workers they were. It was rough going here
in those early years. We moved in to this house that August. And it wasn't much more finished
than it is in this photo.

And then, years later, my youngest son started school. This was the fall after the last of the older boys graduated from high school so we were starting the process all over again. I rememeber him getting out of my car as I dropped him off at his school. He'd turn and wave until he was out of sight. I was working full time by then so the time in the car in the mornings was precious. By then our road was better, we had electricity in the house and the amount of livestock was reduced to chickens and occasionally turkeys and pigs. Our lives had changed a lot over those years, becoming easier in many ways but more complicated. The bus didn't come until 7:30 then, and I needed to be on the road before that, and didn't want to leave my little boy alone on the side of the road waiting for the bus. So the drop-off was the best solution.

I feel for the parents who are seeing their children off for the first time, and for those who are completing this first-day ritual for the last time. These are rites of passage for children and parents alike, both joyful and sorrowful. It's never easy to watch our children grow up, knowing they will soon leave us behind, and we will no longer be such a necessary force in their lives. This is as it should be, but knowing that doesn't make it easier.

Nowadays I try to be up early on the first day, and out on the porch to watch the bus pass--it comes right by our driveway now. I feel like it's the least I can do to salute the efforts of children and parents and bus drivers and children all.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.