Today has been a day of firsts and a day changes. I sent my #1 #6 (read number one number six, long story!) TR to his first day of school. Today he started first grade. When he grows up he wants to work for the Fish and Game trapping and shooting things like mountain lions, when he isn't saving the world from bad guys. I have mixed emotions about public school. It is pretty hard for me to send my baby to spend the day with a complete stranger. We don't know his teacher, we don't know her values. How can we be sure she isn't going to fill his head with rubbish? Unfortunately, I know I am not qualified to teach him the things he needs to know.
While I think it is important to be able to count cows, ride a horse and identify various weeds and plants, which I can teach him. I know it is important to learn about different countries, and how to read, and I just can't teach him those kinds of things. So I drove him to school, walked him to his classroom, said a little prayer, and hugged him goodbye. I didn't cry, but I did have a small anxiety attack when I got back to my pickup. Then QT and I counted the minutes until he would be home.
We waited and waited for what felt like forever until the bus finally pulled up this afternoon. I waited until the driver put the arm out and opened her door, ready to greet TR with a big hug, to find out that he wasn't on the bus. HE. WAS. NOT. ON. THE. BUS. My heart stopped, my stomach dropped to my toes, and I nearly had a melt down. I called the school and after 15 minutes, they located him. He was on the wrong bus. I flew to the school and was waiting for him when he finally pulled up. We were both pretty upset, but you can't imagine the relief I felt when I had my little man's arms wrapped around my neck.
So how does this happen? I know his teacher is responsible for probably 15 six year old's, and I didn't prepare Trent like I should have about getting on the bus. In my defense, how could I? I don't know the bus system. All I got was a sheet of paper with a list of bus stops and what time the bus would arrive at each one. I don't even know what the bus driver's name is. At open house I told his teacher he would ride the bus and he lived in Lamoille. I obviously didn't know much more that I was supposed to do. I asked Trent how he ended up on the wrong bus. He said that his teacher asked him what mascot his bus had and he didn't know so he just picked one. Talk about a recipe for disaster. I am just so glad that Trent stayed on the bus and told the driver that she was going the wrong way to get to his house, and she realized he was on the wrong bus. He could have gotten off anywhere and who knows where he would be now?
All's well that ends well they say. I'm just glad he made it home and is ready to go back again tomorrow! Keep your fingers crossed our year doesn't get anymore exciting than today.