Last night Isaac seemed to be doing fine until he saw the handwritten schedule I had created for Monday. He immediately crossed off all the parts relating to his school day. His plan for today was to go to Dubuque (about 1.5 hours away) and stay overnight at the Grand Harbor Resort. He decided it would be a good time to go to the waterpark now that the city pool is closed. Also, he could eat Five Guys for lunch.
He screamed and carried on last night. He cried. He snuggled up to me. Then he calmed down and helped bake brownies. When he played video games with his brothers, I was sitting in the living room and heard him laughing loudly in the basement. Then he bargained. One more day. Lunch at home. No bus. No masks. No school.
He wants to attend virtual school this year, but the plans for him this academic year include working in the community. As I told him, it's difficult to work in the community while you're sitting at the kitchen table.
Last night I told Isaac some of the truths that I know: the first day of school causes all kinds of feelings. Henry doesn't particularly want to go, but he will enjoy it once he gets there. Teachers don't always want to be there. Most people want more time at home. Many other students are nervous. Teachers are nervous, too, because they don't know how things will unfold, no matter how much they have planned for the day. The uncertainty makes some people feel scared.
This morning Isaac was awake before 6:00. He protested loudly in the kitchen. I wiped snot from his nose and tears from his eyes. I packed his lunch while he was in the bathroom. We talked about what we would do after school. I reassured him that our dinner menu won't change.
About twenty minutes before his bus arrived, Isaac became quiet and still, and he sat on the ottoman in the living room, facing away from me. I knew then that he would be okay because he was watching for the bus. I offered to take him to school. He said, "No."
When the bus arrived, he walked outside and climbed the steps, just like a pro. He waved to me as the bus pulled away, down our crowded narrow street. And I stood there at the front door, wrapped in my old blue robe, waving back.