Last week I went to Back to School Night at Maddie’s new school. I gave myself almost 90 minutes to get there, even though it’s normally only a 20 minute drive, because I had to travel in prime rush hour. I hate to be late, especially when my destination is out of my comfort zone. I didn’t feel like going at all because I’m so exhausted but it seemed important to at least set eyes on the new adults in her life. If they’re offering information, I’m taking it!

I parked a couple blocks away for an easy exit and headed to campus nearly 30 minutes early, thinking I’d be the first person to arrive. Well, the school was already buzzing! Parents and teachers were gathered in small and large groups, catching up with each other, munching on burritos they were selling to feed all those people who probably came right from work. I looked around. I didn’t know a single person. Not even a familiar face. I was a little overwhelmed, to be honest. I am so entrenched in my local school community, I haven’t felt this sense of newness and cluelessness since Maddie started kindergarten. Where are my people? I thought. I need my people! 

I became very aware of how Maddie must feel there. Nearly a thousand kids, very few of whom she knows, crowd the halls between classes, talking, going from class to class as if they’ve done it a thousand times. Because they have. New teachers who don’t know her face. A whole established community with a long history of which she is not a part. That was me. Hundreds of parents who knew each other, jamming up the halls, making it difficult for me to get around. Up the hall, down the hall, across campus, and back. I was uncomfortable and self-conscious and subdued.

Before the parents set off to meet the teachers, everyone convened in the gym for a welcome. The principal and various other administration personnel and volunteers made short speeches, and we were off to follow our child’s schedule for the evening. Ten minutes in each class. I’d only been on that campus maybe three or four times, so I wasn’t sure where everything was. A number of times I approached a student for directions. Where do I go? Where is the bathroom? When is this over?  I bet those questions have crossed Maddie’s mind a few times.

My first visit was to Maddie’s special ed class. I’ve met Mr. L several times and exchanged emails and phone calls. I know him a little, and he knows me. Oh boy did that feel good. Also, he’s such a wonderful, concerned, flexible, engaging, kind person. Yes, I thought. This is good. I am relaxed. I’m sure Maddie is too when she’s here.

Then it was off to geometry, drama and PE. Three fabulous teachers who are clearly passionate about what they’re doing and seemed to be fun and engaging. Then back to Mr. L’s class twice. There I finally ran into a couple I’d met once before. Phew! Somebody I know! Finally, the moment I’d been waiting for, science class. Maddie LOVES her science teacher, Mr. K. She loves science already, so having an interesting teacher with whom she really connects might spark her interest even more. That’s just what she needs! A spark of interest to motivate her.  Last week she brought in two of her homemade swords (duct tape!!) to show him. Clearly they have something special.

At the end of the evening, I was elated. This is a special school. There is a real passion for teaching and developing students and preparing them for success. Maddie’s primary classroom is safe, comforting, and accepting. And even though I’m not yet a part of it, I sensed a strong sense of community there.

As we move through this school year, I know we will have good days and bad days. Sometimes I will feel confident and secure in Maddie’s future, and other times I will feel discouraged and wonder what we should be doing instead. I may look into alternatives sometimes. Other times I must just lock myself in my room, close my eyes and breathe. What I should do is revisit this blog post. I need to remind myself that anybody might feel overwhelmed sometimes at a big new school, so that I can have both patience and empathy for Maddie. I also need to remember that Maddie is indeed in good hands when she’s not at home.

Here I am, three weeks in, still hoping and not knowing what will happen tomorrow. But I did get one thing I hoped for, and that is a good, safe place for my daughter. Now I hope the rest falls into place.