Wednesday, August 25, 2010

A) I'm Dead Inside or B) I LOVE Our School

I choose B! I choose B!

I just dropped EA and Spence at their first day of school. They were laid back. I was laid back. I took the obligatory pictures. I went to chapel. I hit the road. I kept thinking I was too calm. I worried I was going to be blindsided by emotions I didn't know were lurking. But, I wasn't.

It was the same school. The same wonderful staff. The same friends. The kids both thought they were hotshots because they got to move up into bigger grades. What was there to worry about?

There was the catastrophe last night when I tried to wash their (non-colorfast) red school bookbags. This resulted in the white straps turning pink. After a bleach bath the straps are now... mostly white. But, that's okay. I know our school. I know our families. I bet half the kids there have pink straps. Ain't no thang. (That's right. This is a new, more mellow Ali. I just said "ain't no thang" about sending my boy to 1st grade with pink bookbag straps.)

Now I'm off to exchange the jeans I could have sworn were dark blue, but apparently, as I saw under the harsh glow of the florescent lights in chapel this morning, are grey.  But, that's okay.  I have time.  The kids are in school.

I love our school.

WHOSE CHILD IS THIS?
Author Unknown

"Whose child is this?" I asked one day
Seeing a little one out at play.
"Mine," said the parent with a tender smile,
"Mine to keep a little while
To bathe his hands and comb his hair,
To tell him what he is to wear,
To prepare him that he may always be good
And each day do the things he should."

"Whose child is this?" I asked again
As the door opened and someone came in.
"Mine," said the teacher with the same tender smile,
"Mine, to keep just for a while
To teach him how to be gentle and kind,
To train and direct his dear little mind,
To help him live by every rule
And get the best he can from school."

"Whose child is this?" I ask once more
Just as the little one entered the door.
"Ours," said the parent and the teacher as they smiled
And each took the hand of the little child.
"Ours to love and train together.
Ours this blessed task forever."

(Ok. So maybe I got a little choked up when I read this. Maybe.)

5 comments:

Mandi said...

I already know that you are grateful, but be doubly so today. Most schools aren't as easy to hand your children over to. You are blessed.

Eat. Live. Laugh. and sometimes shop! said...

Umm, I hate to break it to you, but the jeans were clearly grey this morning in your kitchen. ; )

Ali said...

i WILL be doubly so, mandi. i know how blessed we are by our school.

hush, amy, they WERE NOT. those are clearly DARK BLUE - that's my story and i'm sticking to it. ;)

suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter} said...

i love that your kids go to the same school as you. are there still old teachers that can tell them stories??

Ali said...

suzannah - thankfully, none of the teachers can tell stories about ME, but my brother (their uncle) on the other hand... ;)

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