I remember trying to get to all 3 of my kids' schools on the same night, two years ago, when my kids and I first moved to Florida. It was awful. I was at such a loss. I didn't know anyone here, wasn't familiar with the schools, didn't know the teachers, wasn't used to the stifling heat, and I felt like a total failure, certain that moving here had ruined my kids' lives. The night ended with me having a breakdown and crying like a baby. I'm not proud of that. I wish someone had been around to slap me and tell me to get a grip, or to make me laugh about the situation.
I’m very happy to declare that I’ve since become more familiar with things here in Florida and, more importantly, I’ve regained my sense of humor. Tonight I took Jackson to the high school to pick up his schedule, get his ID, and walk the campus, searching for his classes. Jackson is a freshman this year. He’s not happy about it. He walked around, sulking all evening. Granted, there were a zillion people there, it was raining, and it was slightly hotter than the surface of the sun, but still…his attitude was less than delightful.
“Freshman year is gonna suck,” Jackson pouted. “The first week of school is gonna suck. Getting to all my classes is gonna suck. Being a freshman sucks. This whole year is gonna suck.” The litany continued throughout our evening.
At first, I offered cheery rebuttals. “It isn’t going to suck. It’s going to be awesome! I loved high school! No way will it suck — you’re outgoing! You’ll make tons of friends and have so much fun! Jackson, I’m not worried about you at all. You’ll adapt and fit in right away, you’ll see.”
However, the negativism kept seeping from him, making the humid air grow even more oppressive with his dark thoughts.
We were standing in line in the media center, waiting so Jackson could have his picture taken for his student ID, when he said once more, “This is going to suck.”
I looked at him and said, “School isn’t going to suck. You know what’s going to suck? It’s going to suck when I get fed up with your complaining and I start doing this…”
Then I raised my voice a bit and said, “This is my son, Jackson. He’s new here. Will you be his friend? He’s a nice guy.” I turned and approached someone else. “Hi, I’m Dawn and this is my son, Jackson. He’s scared about high school. Would you like to be his friend?” I greeted another person. “This is my son, Jackson. Isn’t he cute? He doesn’t have many friends. Would you like to be his friend? He’s a nice boy.”
I’m not sure, but I think Jackson was debating between laughing, running away, and having me locked up. At any rate, he cut the negativity and smiled for his ID picture.
As we walked back to the car, I told him, “Listen, it’s going to be fine. Yeah, it’s scary, but you’re a great guy. You’re outgoing and make friends easily. You’ll find your way around just like everyone else here. You’ll have a good year, I know it. And if you don’t, I can always drop you off on the first day and get out of the car in my pajamas and introduce you around some more.”
Jackson gave me his ‘I am not amused’ look and stated, “I would rather walk to school on my butt cheeks, but thanks anyway.”
I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a good year.
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