on her own

Today was The Bean's first day of junior high school - grade 7. Her school goes from grade 7 to grade 12. The 7s and 8s have a separate schedule from the bigger kids, but they are all in the same building.

I was more than a little trepidatious to send her out there, and that's not like me. On her first day of daycare, I dropped her off and she skipped happily away. My heart sank a little, but I knew she was in good hands and she was clearly happy. On her first day of kindergarten, she was so excited to be going to school, and she loved the idea of the school bus. I was proud of my little independent girl who was clearly capable of taking on the world - in that protected sort of way. There was always a grown up to lead her to another grown up: I put her on the bus, in the care of the bus driver, who released her into the care of the teacher, who in turn put her back on the bus, then back directly into my arms. Easy.

Today, it was not so easy. Today, I dropped my kid off at a giant school (I remember it feeling pretty big when I went there in grade 9), and watched her cross the street and into that courtyard. She stood around, waiting for a familiar face.

"She's so small," said Boo from the back seat, voicing my exact thoughts.

She was going to have to find her way to the auditorium, then listen carefully for roll call so she would know where to go next. At lunchtime, she was going to have to find her own way to the cafeteria, then to outside, then back in, in time for her afternoon classes. Then, the big test: the city bus all on her own. I was sick with the thought of it, every time it surfaced to my conscious mind over the course of the summer. She is little. She's not quite 12, and weighs all of 80 pounds. This kid could get crushed in those packed buses!

So we practiced yesterday. It didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped, with The Bean nearly missing our stop on the way home, then not getting up quickly enough to make it to the door to get out in time. But there was no more time for practice. At some point, it's showtime. That was this afternoon. I made her promise to send me an email as soon as she got home (we don't have a land line, and there's no use wasting minutes with a call when an email will do).

I was worried when it was nearly 5:00 and I hadn't heard anything. Then I got this email, correct grammar in the subject field and all:

It was a bad bus ride, but I'm home

Hi Mommy, I'm just got home. My bus ride looked something like this: 

- I waited for the bus with T. and another girl from the school

- We got all the way to that shopping centre where you told me not to ever get off at (the Rideau Centre; if you're from Ottawa, you understand my instructions)

- The bus crashed into another bus and the bottom window of the back door was all cracked

- We all had to get off the bus and the three of us sticked together

- We tried to call the other girl's dad but her phone didn't work

- We missed the next bus

- We got onto the following bus

- I got home safely and went to send you an email after going to the bathroom. 

That was my bus ride.  


So yeah, she's got this. Phew.