Back to school

The big day finally arrived: It's the first day of the school year.

At our house, we have a sophomore. A seventh-grader. And a third-grader.

And for all three, it has been all about the outfit.

The back-to-school outfit is all-important. If I tried hard enough, I could probably think back and tell you exactly what I wore on the first day of school K through 12. I remember what I wore on my first day of class in college; I remember what I wore when I interviewed for my first job, and for the first actual day of work. I recall what I wore when I made a big Keats presentation in grad school; I remember the dress I bought for my thesis defense. I remember what I had on when I taught composition for the first time, what I wore when I went back to work at the newspaper. And I remember those interview outfits, too.

I know how critical the first-day outfit is.

Maddie and Sylvia made their choices weeks ago, and they've been laid out in their rooms since last week. Alison did not have hers all laid out, but she certainly knew what she would have on today. Thus it seemed our first day would go off without a hitch.

But it wasn't to be.

Maddie and Alison both went outside before 10 til 7; they catch their buses at 6.52 and 6.56 a.m., respectively. I got Sylvia up, and at 7.10 Alison pops in and informs me that her bus never came.

Grrr. I can take you, I said, but you'll have to wait until I get Sylvia on the bus. Around 7.20 Alison was getting antsy - couldn't we just ssend Sylvia next door? No, no - it's her first day of school, and I want to take her to the bus at least. Plus Sylvia won't hear of it - she wants me to wave to her as the bus pulls away. And I can do that much, can't I, for my smallest daughter?

Alison is becoming increasingly agitated; I tell her to remain calm. It's the first day - it's not a big deal, and she will not be in trouble or counted tardy. Especially since the bus didn't show up. I know her first day is important, but Sylvia's is, too. Asking me to choose which one is more important is akin to asking me which child is my favorite. And as you know, I have no answer for that question.

I took Sylvia out early, thinking that maybe, maybe she would be OK waiting with one of her friends. Alison sticks her head out the door periodically, letting me know that SHE IS READY. After a few minutes, one of Sylvia's friends does indeed show up, with her mother. So she acquiesces.

Alison is very upset with me - yelling at me as we drive. But I remained calm, telling her that everything will be fine. Sure enough, we get there, and the info desk woman does not even bat an eyelash when I tell her what has happened. No problem, just go here, get your schedule. No worries. And when I tell her the bus didn't show up, she looks sympathetic, but does not write down which bus or even seem to really be all that interested.

So, in the end, all is well: Everyone is at school, with lunch, with supplies.

When they came home, all three girls reported SUCCESS. Maddie's bus coming home didn't show up, so she called to let me know she was waiting in the gym, but was home about 15 minutes later. Sylvia likes a new girl in her class and loves her teachers. And Alison? No problem - two of her friends are in her lunch, everything was fine. (Apology accepted, by the way ...)

Tomorrow should be smoother. I know the outfits are planned through the end of the week, anyway.