The nerves rattling through my body are a bit different than I remember six years ago.
hat was the last time I participated in the first-day-of-school ritual, ending more than a decade of routine that began when I was in preschool.
Now, starting at today’s open house, my daughter is starting that same path that I began more than 20 years ago.
My oldest child is entering preschool, a known statement that is sure to make my wife and me feel a lot older starting today.
I knew this day would come. We’ve been training for it since she was born. The countless renditions of the ABCs, the broad brushings of my daughter’s favorite pink Crayola and the constant chatter back and forth were a precursor to the real deal — school.
Now that I have children, I’ve become a sap. I still attempt to keep a hard exterior, but ever since my daughter’s birth more than three years ago, little things that I normally would scoff at, tug at my heart strings.
And I believed that today would be one of those “things.”
But it’s not.
I might be more excited than my daughter. Although I don’t miss the pressure of a last-second cram session or a procrastinated paper, I can’t wait to see how my daughter responds to school.
I enjoyed school...to a point. Like most kids, there were days that I would rather be at home. But for the most part, it was something that I looked forward to each year, wondering what the teacher would be like, whether I would be punished for the behavior of my two older brothers and who I would sit by during class.
Some of my best friends are still people I met in preschool and kindergarten. Some of the friends that I had during school have faded, but there are still some people that I still consider good enough friends that I actually call or meet in person, rather than stay behind Facebook’s profile.