Back-to-school time is bittersweet. Yes, we celebrate a new year, the start of the next adventure. And with a new start, there's also an ending.
For weeks now, I've been reminded of endings and beginnings, of the rituals that mark the passing of time. It started about a month ago, when I attended a family dinner, to say good-bye to my twin nieces, headed off to college for the first time. One left in August for the West Coast and the other left this month for the Midwest. They are half girl and half woman, with responsibilities and talents and intelligence that clearly puts them into the adult category and life experience that still puts them in the teen category. When we gather again for Thanksgiving, they will have moved a little closer into adulthood.
It is the end of a parent's "child under my roof" period, when daily living together is the natural (if not always comfortable) state of affairs. I may not have the same influence over your clothes and choice of friends as when you were younger, but I still see you at breakfast and dinner. A friend of mine with a senior in high school told me that she's already getting teary-eyed, and it's only the beginning of the school year. Just like women get pre-menopausal, mothers get pre-empty nesteritis. It's a nasty condition that is often accompanied by lumps in the throat and a dread of being no longer needed.
I've been reminded how far my own children have come in terms of independence. Just a few years ago, my husband and I were hesitant to leave them alone for a couple of hours on their own. Now, an evening out for dinner or a concert without them is stress free. My oldest is learning to drive and if it weren't for the "unreasonable" requirement to log 50 hours of driving with a parent, he'd already have his badge of true independence–a driver's license.
Every once in awhile, memories of my kids at different ages do a short lilt and jig in my head, a commercial break from reality. I remember one as the defiant toddler, and another as a third-grader in a new school, grasping for some sense of routine by wearing the same two shirts from the start of school until Christmas break, and both of them graduating from fifth grade to middle school in elaborate ceremonies that were much too pompous for the achievement bestowed upon them.
Where has the time gone? Back to school reminds me. Each year, on the first day of school, I take a few photos of my sons on the backyard patio and the front steps, to record the freshness of a new school year. Over the years, my kids have transformed from cooperative, excited boys to, well, teenagers, with a sureness about school that makes it uncool to document the process with photos. They have grown up.
A friend of mine, who lost her dad to a quick-moving cancer over the summer, told me that after some vacation time in August, she's ready to start anew again. Her clients are part of a year-long leadership program, that ends about now. They, too, will start again, with new perspectives and skills. What is it about the fall, that back-to-school time, that gives us hope and a sense of turning the corner, just when Mother Nature is getting ready to go out in a burst of color before going dormant? Photo by elbfoto
We start again, each year, in the fall. We wipe away the mistakes and regrets of the last year with new erasers and composition books that have no stray markings or ink spots, but which still shows some resistance when the front cover is opened. We open ourselves to another identity, one that isn't about being the expert in work, but rather the student in life. We fill our backpacks with reflection and dreams and commitment to the journey. Photo by Jamiesrabbits
Another friend, who came to this country 20 years ago from China, told me that in Asia, you don't get second chances. Black marks follow you for life. Not here, in the US. We are a country of immigrants, with second chances as easy to come by as a move to another state.
In a way, this entire year has been about back-to-school. Ending what we knew from past years, maybe how we lived and worked, what we trusted, and starting over.
What is back-to-school time like for you?
My life too has been filled with endings and beginnings this fall. I am ending my “time-off” and returning to the work world. I am finishing lots of project at home … now I look around with great satisfaction at a home that looks good and is much more green environmentally. I have finished lamenting my time away from work and am really enjoying it.
Fall is my very favorite time of year!
Always timely, Carol! I was saying just yesterday that I feel that fall is a time of new beginnings! I think our culture of “back-to-school” makes us anticipate new possibilities in the fall–and allows us to get back to that student role. Thanks for the reminder!
Wonderful reflection … you reminded me of another perspective on autumn, as well. A few years ago, I was studying Shiatsu massage. I learned that, in Traditional Chinese Medicine, autumn is the time to decide what to you no longer need and can throw away, versus what is essential and worth storing for the winter. I imagine busy squirrels getting ready to hibernate/slow down. The easy days of summer are behind them!
Prior to learning this, I’d always thought spring was the time of renewal — think “spring cleaning.”
Instead, I now think of back-to-school time/autumn as a season to refocus on the simple, vital skills/tools/items that will really serve me on the journey through winter.
I’m enjoying hearing your impressions of fall and the memories this post has triggered for you. I was literally taken “back-to-school” when I received an email from one of my middle school teachers who had read (and enjoyed) this post! Please keep adding your memories of back-to-school. It’s fascinating to hear!
Great post, Carol! Autumn has always been my favorite time of year — seeing the pretty foliage, feeling the cooler breezes. Fall is really quite a respite from the hot summer, but it’s always brought memories too. I’m often surprised to recall images that feel so recent: wearing a crisp new dress the first day in elementary school, feeling the nervous anticipation of high school, and the excitement and boldness of going away to university.
You hit on so many touchpoints for me, plus you gave me something else to think about — that looking at this time of year is a chance to begin again. That’s why I love reading your posts, Carol, you have wonderful insights. Thank you!
Thanks for the kind words, Carol. Speaking of a chance to begin again, one of my readers just emailed me today that Rosh Hashanah, which is occurring this weekend, is commonly known as the Jewish New Year. One website describes this holiday as, “a time to begin introspection, looking back at the mistakes of the past year and planning the changes to make in the new year.”
I love the idea of beginning again. Even in the bleakest of circumstances or saddled by a history riddled with mistakes, we can start anew. Not just in the fall, but in every moment.
Dear Carol,
I’ve always loved fall, not sure if it’s the back to school or back to “something-ness” …or the end of summer and all that it implies. It’s just such a colorful time of change and a time of preparing for the next season – what’s next? It’s putting on sweaters, it’s filled with the crispness of the fall morning air; and that air is filled with expectation; small children racing for their first bus ride to first grade. I can’t even remember the first anything recently; and so I yearn for that same feeling of blissfully unaware expectation as I go about my day and my routine. (notice i didn’t say unconscious – unaware as in wonderment) Here’s to first grade, to big fat #2 pencils, to big chief tablets, to jack and janet and buster brown shoes. Now that should take ya’ back; I’m a bit older, oh but what a memory you jogged for me with your featured article. The imagery is physically tangible.
Thanks Carol you’re a gem.
Jai ho!
Blessings,
Dawn
Thanks, Dawn, for the visceral memories that come with your colorful icons of back to school time. I also love your term, “the first anything” as a delightful moment that we don’t get to experience much as an adult. Here’s to creating more “firsts” as part of our everyday experience.