Past Present

It was a scene that I was happy to witness, but left me a little sad. We stopped by my son's old preschool this past weekend. My wife and son got out and walked around a little. They sized up the little slide and the narrow walkway that lead to the front door. They looked down the hill toward the winding path that served as a Big Wheel race track for him and his little pals way back when. I watched all of this from the passenger seat, windows rolled up. I didn't get out. This wasn't my place. It was theirs.
Coincidentally, I started my teaching gig just about the same time my wife did. She did hers without a credential at my son's co-op preschool. While I was busy sorting things out at my new elementary school, the two of them were pioneering snack time and potty breaks for those who were not ready for Kindergarten. They were just over the hill from where I was working, but they could have been light years away. The days at Peter Pan always involved so much more fun than Horace Mann. I suppose that makes sense, but it pained me just a little that I didn't get to be part of the crew that kept things running alongside the rest of the volunteer parents. I spent a few Saturday afternoons putting in some sweat equity on the clean up crew and even helped install that little slide that seemed so big way back when.
But mostly I was at work while they were at school. They came and visited me on a couple of occasions, but mostly we were on separate paths. I was grateful for the opportunity to be a part of the Dads' Club at my son's elementary school. I was finally able to connect with his scholastic endeavors in a meaningful way. That is, if running the talent show and serving pancake breakfast once a year could be considered meaningful.
Now he's in high school, and the opportunities for either his mother or me to be involved in his day to day world lie squarely after the bell rings. He would much rather have us here as support on geometry homework or the occasional ride home when the bus comes too early or too late. Back in the Peter Pan days, sometimes he would ride on the back of his mother's bike to school. Those were the days.