School Daze
September 8th 2010 - Harry's first day at school. Pardon the lapse in the venacular but, Jeeeeesus - where has the time gone?
Michele is Catholic, we got married in a Catholic church so I expect it was always on the cards that the kids would be baptised Catholic and sent to attend a Catholic school. It irked me a bit at first - this seeming spiritual fore-planning of my childs' life - but I have to say, in the light of cold day, no harm done.
Harry goes to St Wilfrids Catholic Primary School and he is LOVING it there. Due to the juggle of hours necessary to acccommodate school life, I get to take Harry to school three mornings a week. His Gran (Michele's Mum) picks him up one day and Michele collects him the other four days.
My Dad used to work in local government up in Guildford, looking after all the schools in the area and often told of how he loved seeing the kids in the school environment. Being a grown-up now, I see what he was on about.
I delight in seeing the innocent cheer of children. By some strange coincidence, the school caretaker is called Mr Fitch - a letter away from Hogwarts' caretaker's name - and he is always a welcome site first thing in the morning when waiting for the outer school gates to be unlocked. By the time he arrives the few children waiting for him (Harry included) are all screaming "Mr Fitch!!!!"
Once let in, the children tear away across the playground to their respective class entrances. After waiting a short while, during which the number of excited kids and their accompanying parents (yes, including a number of yummy-mummies!), the gate opens and the kids go in.
I help Harry drop off his book bag, drink bottle and lunch box in the proper areas, then kiss and cuddle him goodbye as he enters the actual classroom. He never fails to turn and wave again, and I look forward to that last farewell.
Harry's teacher is Mrs Brown, an initially forbidding but actually a warm, caring person. Like the various girls at the hospital creche, I get the confident impression that when I leave the school to catch the bus, I'm leaving Harry in good hands.
I took the first week off so Michele and I could take Harry to school together and that first day was another milestone - a degree of separation that every parent goes through. I'd like to think we handled it well but I left with a lump in my throat.
And what better way to end this blog entry than with a picture of the boy himself - "proud parents" doesn't even come close... :-)
Michele is Catholic, we got married in a Catholic church so I expect it was always on the cards that the kids would be baptised Catholic and sent to attend a Catholic school. It irked me a bit at first - this seeming spiritual fore-planning of my childs' life - but I have to say, in the light of cold day, no harm done.
Harry goes to St Wilfrids Catholic Primary School and he is LOVING it there. Due to the juggle of hours necessary to acccommodate school life, I get to take Harry to school three mornings a week. His Gran (Michele's Mum) picks him up one day and Michele collects him the other four days.
My Dad used to work in local government up in Guildford, looking after all the schools in the area and often told of how he loved seeing the kids in the school environment. Being a grown-up now, I see what he was on about.
I delight in seeing the innocent cheer of children. By some strange coincidence, the school caretaker is called Mr Fitch - a letter away from Hogwarts' caretaker's name - and he is always a welcome site first thing in the morning when waiting for the outer school gates to be unlocked. By the time he arrives the few children waiting for him (Harry included) are all screaming "Mr Fitch!!!!"
Once let in, the children tear away across the playground to their respective class entrances. After waiting a short while, during which the number of excited kids and their accompanying parents (yes, including a number of yummy-mummies!), the gate opens and the kids go in.
I help Harry drop off his book bag, drink bottle and lunch box in the proper areas, then kiss and cuddle him goodbye as he enters the actual classroom. He never fails to turn and wave again, and I look forward to that last farewell.
Harry's teacher is Mrs Brown, an initially forbidding but actually a warm, caring person. Like the various girls at the hospital creche, I get the confident impression that when I leave the school to catch the bus, I'm leaving Harry in good hands.
I took the first week off so Michele and I could take Harry to school together and that first day was another milestone - a degree of separation that every parent goes through. I'd like to think we handled it well but I left with a lump in my throat.
And what better way to end this blog entry than with a picture of the boy himself - "proud parents" doesn't even come close... :-)
posted by Mark Powell | 8:06 PM
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