Last night I was privileged to attend the end-of-year Crossing Over ceremony at the Montessori School of the Mahoning Valley, where my granddaughter "crossed over" from kindergarten to first grade.
After the ceremony was concluded, my sweet little Boston was in tears. I asked what was wrong, and he said, "Laura's not going to be back next year." I reassured him that she'd be back to see him, and marveled that an eighth-grader knew him, and he her, well enough to form that kind of bond.
I went to a relatively small school—there were 30 kids in my eighth-grade graduating class. In my high school, the graduating class numbered 100. When I look back on it from a distance of 40 years, I realize we were lucky to be able to have those close relationships with our classmates, the faculty and the staff. My older son was in a graduating class of 1,000. We don't talk about it, but I wonder how many of those classmates he still knows, 17 years out. My younger son went to a small, prestigious arts boarding school, and I think all those kids are still in touch with each other. There's a continuity to that "schoolstyle" that enriches one's life, I believe.
We are very lucky that Jaci found the Montessori School, and that it has been such a perfect fit for both Boston and Ridley.
(And to PianoLady, one of whose twin "babies" is going to his senior prom tonight, I ask, "Where have the years gone?!")
1 comment:
I'm not sentimental like that. Living in Dallas all my adult life, I occasionally bump into people I knew in high school, and it always makes me itchy.
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