“Firsts” are exciting. They are thrilling and reassuring and pull of pride and joy and love. But sadly, the special “firsts” start to slow down as infants turn into babies into toddlers into children into big kids who have permanent teeth growing in more directions than you can count. Of course, the first day of school is always cause for pictures and text messages to grandparents, and I imagine there will be great amounts of emotion expended down the road when we experience his first date, the first time he drives a car, and his first college application. Today, however, I have to tell you about a “first” I never saw coming.
Charlie started middle school this week. It was quite a roller coaster for my little fellow, as the jubilation he has felt for months about leaving lower school turned into some serious anxiety about three weeks before school was scheduled to begin. Yes. Three weeks of ten-year old anxiety. That meant lots and lots of questions and comments about middle school and what was it going to be like and what if he couldn’t handle it and what if he couldn’t open his locker and what if he couldn’t find his classes and why in the world did his school make kids start middle school in fifth grade anyway?!?!
There
were two days of orientation, and that helped . . . a little. Still, on the morning of the first day of middle
school, my Charlie was pacing the kitchen by 6:30 am, worried about his shoes
and his socks and his first class and his last class and carpool and . . .
It
was a half day, so I picked him up at noon.
There was a smile on his face as he slid into the car, and his entire
demeanor was visibly different – calm, relaxed, okay.
He
chattered happily about his day on the ride home. My
teachers are nice, I know a lot of people in my classes, it’s not that
different from lower school.
We
got home and he had homework, because middle schoolers are big time like
that. Now at Charlie’s school, one of
the perks of moving up into the middle school is that the students each get
their own tablet, which is basically a laptop computer on which they do almost
everything. So my son pulled out his
tablet and prepared to complete his first homework assignment of the school
year. His task was to send an email to
his math teacher. And that’s when it
happened. The “first” I wasn’t
expecting, but which was just as thrilling and reassuring and full of pride and
joy and love as the others Charlie has provided through the years.
I
remember the first time I had to send an email.
I was a student at the University of Georgia, not long before
graduation, and much like my son, I was required to email one of my professors as
a homework assignment. In order to do
it, I had to drive to campus, find a parking spot, search for the computer lab
I’d never set foot in before, wait for an empty computer, figure out how to get
the computer to turn on because the person before me had shut it down, wait at
least ten minutes for the computer to get going again, and navigate whatever
email procedure I had been instructed to use to demonstrate to my professor
that I could successfully send a message through time and space using the
latest and greatest technology.
Charlie’s
homework wasn’t quite so complicated.
And within weeks, I’d be willing to bet he won’t even recall doing it
because he will have sent so many emails since then. I, on the other hand, will remember it
forever.
I
will remember the way his face lit up. I
will remember the way he threw his hands in the air and squealed like the child
he is. I will remember the exhilaration
in his voice when he hollered, “I DID IT!”
The
kid was absolutely giddy. He had sent
his first email. I guess that’s 2013 for you, huh? We just keep adding things for parents to pray about.
Lord,
please let my son use email wisely and appropriately.
Please watch over him as he navigates the world of technology, which
gives him access to all the things I hope he never wants to Google. Lord, please let my son send and receive only
positive, uplifting email messages from now until the end of time. Amen.
I
can’t wait to see what Charlie thinks when I start emailing him. I’m thinking maybe a Bible verse of the day .
. . Think his face will light up every time he opens it?
