Back to School

I remember watching the old super-8 film of my first day of school. My oldest sister's friend wore a buzz-cut hairdo, horn-rimmed glasses and a Nehru jacket and mugged for the camera while I skipped down the sidewalk in a pink jumper, white peter pan-collared blouse, cardigan sweater, sporting a pixie haircut and saddle shoes. I arrived at a yet-under-construction school [thanks, Boomers!] named after a President to see the big-to-my-size kindergarten classroom. I met my teacher, Miss Benucci, who was a young and lovely woman, dressed fashionably in a mini-dress and teased hair. I loved her. I loved school. I couldn't wait to go there.

It is bittersweet that my son won't have these little memories, perfectly preserved in fading brittle film.

We resumed schoolwork this morning and he had a chance to learn a couple more letters, read me a couple books and earn his computer time. I've learned that I can actually get stuff done if I get myself showered and dressed first and not turn on my computer until the schoolwork is done. We're getting into the groove, he's doing well and I'm proud of him. But I'm not teasing my hair.