First Days of School

"Thank goodness I was never sent to school;

it would have rubbed off some of the originality."

~Beatrix Potter

This morning has been quiet. River (9 mos.) was up at 6:00, but she has already had a diaper change, nursed, and gone back to sleep. I have relished the silence, reading my English countryside book and sipping a now-lukewarm coffee in the grey light of this misty, drizzly morning, listening to the buses drive down our own wet countryside road on their way to the school down the lane.

River, at Saturday's church pool party. A fitting end to summer!

We started school yesterday. I faced the new year with a mix of eagerness and dread. I am always overwhelmed by the sheer logistics of this thing called school. Too easily, I succumb to the weight of the realities of life...those things called children, and laundry, and meals, and doctor's appointments, and dog food.

However.

Yesterday was delightful. It was a mad rush of things, trying to quickly explain which books were whose and what was expected while also getting the ripped paper out of River's mouth and for heaven's sake, Older Children, GET OUT OF BED!!!

Things did seem to move right along once we tackled the getting out of bed part. Funny, that.

I absolutely love this mix of kids. But NOT, I must admit, their week's worth of dirty laundry from camp.

Despite my complete expectations that there would be complaints and mutiny among the ranks (as we say, "If they are complaining, it does not mean we're doing something wrong. It just means they're still alive"), there was not any. The children were excited by the new books and attentive during the readings (both mine and theirs) and careful to keep on-task.

There is, I must admit, a contagious excitement that comes with freshly sharpened pencils and a sense of Things That Must Be Done.

A waning excitement, I am sure, but excitement nonetheless!

And now Ada (5) is here, waving my days-old birthday balloon and wearing Gideon's bowler hat, Eden (10) is reading Beatrix Potter to Eve (2) and Zebby (4), and Lily's Baked Oatmeal is ready on the stove (a perk of homeschooling: you can say, "Preparing breakfast for the next day is part of your 'Culinary Studies' class each afternoon..."), and my mug most definitely needs a refill.

School days are here again!

This is a poem my mother used to say often.  I don't know why. But it is the first poem I teach my children each school year.