My Son's First Day of 7th Grade!

Yesterday was my son's first day in the 7th grade!

Really, it is amazing just how quickly time passes. After all, the 7th grade was the beginning of the end of what I would consider my "real" childhood, in terms of it being an age of innocence and purely childish pursuits and interests, and my entrance into the beginnings of what would be older, more mature interests and pursuits. Yes, the 7th grade felt like the time when were expected to leave childish things behind, and no longer was it cool, as it just had been in the prior couple of years, to talk about toys or cartoons or comics with peers. It was the time when boys and girl started to really notice one another, when there were actual relationships forming, and when the coolest kids were going out with a boyfriend or girlfriend. I did not have a girlfriend at that time, at such a young age, yet, but it did not take long before I started to want one. 

Also, aesthetically speaking, it looked and felt more like high school. We had more definitive periods of classes, and had to travel to get to different rooms, even different wings of the school, in order to get to our classrooms. And by then, it became undeniable that high school was going to happen, that we were indeed truly growing up. This was both comforting and frightening, and I suspect that this was true for most of us. 

Indeed, at least in my case, it felt like there was a clear dividing line between the 6th and the 7th grade. We literally were now in a different school, no longer strictly an elementary school. It was a whole lot bigger, and the six elementary schools spread throughout my township (of West Milford) now all converged into one building, from this point until we all would graduate together some years later. The science classes actually looked like they were meant for science, with equipment and chemical bottles and other supplies, as well as strange tables and sinks and such, which also had never been the case before. This was very different territory, indeed.

And there was this: the 7th grade was the beginning point of the second half of the ladder in terms of grades. Somehow, we had gotten through grades 1-6. Now, it was time to begin the equally long, but far more difficult in many respects, journey from grade 7-12. If the age of 50 is supposed to be a gray area, as it is often seen as the old age of youth, or the youth of old age, then the 7th grade felt kind of like that divide with childhood. You were a kid still, yes. But you were no longer one of the younger, smaller, ones. Nobody talked about how cute you were anymore. Now, people began to expect more serious answers to more serious questions. In fact, all of the expectations seemed to be raised.

All of this made it a confusing time, too. You are still a kid, yet in some ways, you almost are not, and are at least beginning to get exposed to more adult interests and pursuits, even if to a limited degree. Physically, it is an awkward age, because most of us no longer merely looked like kids, but we sure also could not pass as adults. And in most cases, although we might desire boyfriends or girlfriends, I think that most kids did not quite have one just yet, either. But the desire to be cool, to fit in, was always there, and I hardly think that I was alone in feeling that this pressure stepped up several notches and became not just noticeable, but unavoidable. Again, this seemed all to begin with the 7th grade.

It was stressful and sometimes annoying to go through, and it was all enough to make me nervous. Again, I hardly feel that this was just something unique to me.

Now, my son is there. Sure, times and circumstances have changed. A lot is different now, for the academic year 2018-19, then it was for academic year 1986-87, when I was in the 7th grade. That much is beyond debate, and I understand just how different things are. Also, my son's town had the middle school begin in the 5th grade, which meant that they lost recess in the 5th grade, which seemed entirely too early to me. But it also means that, at least in terms of being in the physical school and the setting, he is already quite familiar with it all.

Yet, it still makes me nervous, and in many respects. In fact, it makes me even more nervous now, as an adult. This is my son, after all! And while indeed things might be similar to when I went through the 7th grade, the differences these days feel even scarier. I mean, it is hard to even imagine the pressures of social media and texting and all of those comments that we hear horror stories about with the kids. They really are still too young to understand the full ramifications of some of the things that they will see and read and, let's face it, be called or accused of, and in some cases, surely, call others. Those pressures just sometimes feel...well, overwhelming, even to an adult. My son is 12 years old, still. It hardly seems possible that he could possibly be as old as he is already, when it felt like just yesterday that he was a baby, or that he was a toddler, or a 1st grader till reaching out for his teddy bear when I was tucking him in at night.

Such is life. It just keeps marching relentlessly on. And if sometimes, when you get older, you stop and scratch your head, and wonder just what in the hell happened, how time could have passed so damn quickly without your quite realizing it, the calendar does not lie. Sometimes, it feels literally unbelievable, but that is how it goes. Indeed, my son is now 12, and will be celebrating his 13th birthday in a couple of months. He's growing up, and doing so fast. Sometimes, it feels impossibly fast, and you just want it to slow down.

But time has other ideas, doesn't it?

Still, he is a good boy. He always has been, and I believe he always will be. Also, he is still my boy, little or not. Always has been, and always will be. Sure, it is scary, and my guess is that he feels a little bit scared, as well, even if he does not show it, and likely would not admit to it if he is. But the best thing - perhaps the only thing - is to keep doing what I am doing. To keep being the best parent, the best father, that I can be. To be there to listen to him, to watch and help him grow. Answer questions that he asks if and when I can, and offer what guidance I can offer. And always, always to love him and be there for him, come what may.

And also, to enjoy the ride. Enjoy the process of his growing up. I loved when he was a baby, and then a young child. I still relish the times when he shows that he is not yet that old, when he reveals that he still has a bit of that little boy in him.Those times are getting fewer and farther between, but I reserve the right to enjoy them. But it is also a pleasure to watch him grow, even if it sometimes seems a bit rushed, and feels tinged by a bit of sadness at times. He is growing, slowly but surely, and forming into a man. No, he is not there yet, but he is on his way. If his younger boyhood was the groundwork, then this is the beginning of the base structure. He is on his way.

And throughout his journey, I will try to be there for him, come what may.

Here are the pictures of my not so little boy yesterday, about to begin his first day of school for this new academic year: