It's the last few weeks of school up here. The Boy is finishing Grade 6 and though his school does go to Grade 8, he's asked if he can go to a bigger school next year. It's great idea, he's out grown the school and it really doesn't offer the diversity he needs. Deep down we all need to find a few kindred spirits. Excuse me while I muse over the fact that the little boy who made quite the scene letting go of me in SK, is now moving to a Middle/High School mix. He's super excited I'm scared to death.
We're sending him to Fame school, well, sort of. The best Fame school Ontario's public school system can produce. The Man and I explained that we expect every single day will be like this. EVERY DAY. (Maybe we fewer leg warmers... and maybe a bit more hip hop. Though I am not necessarily opposed to hot lunch.) Not setting him up for disappointment. He still has to take Math.
Seems a world away from the convent and embroidery to encourage us to "well rounded." Embroidery was a bit of a problem for me. Sister Pierrette, the math teacher, used to judge our work by the tidiness of what was under the canvas. I became so obsessed with it that the front of my canvas was a mess. I'd like to say I was rebellious enough to not care about embroidery instead it ate away at me, and I lost sleep over it. Apparently being well-rounded caused me undo stress. I'd have been much better off taking something less... ummmm... strict.
As for The Boy, I hope that we're striking a balance between getting it done and fun creative time. Nurturing his creative drive is all I can. I seem to be finding my own in the process. There is more than on artist in the family.
The Boy is growing up. It's a bitter sweet thing. I can see the awesome man he's becoming while perhaps missing the little boy he once was. On this rainy Saturday morning as he prepares for his piano recital, I'm waxing nostalgic and trust that I'm doing right by him. Suppose that's all we can do.