As the title says it really is the end of an era now that our primary school days are over.
It feels very odd to think that I will never go to the school that was a big part of our lives for almost 9 years again. I actually thought I’d be really emotional and sad about it. I carried tissues with me to the Leaver’s assembly and the last day, plus to the Leaver’s party and they went unused.
I was a little teeny bit sad inside in all honesty, but I know my youngest is more than ready for secondary school, so how can I feel really sad? He has so much ahead of him, so many experiences and activities. So much to learn. I think I’d feel a bit guilty if I was being a wet blanket over it all.
I think it helps that his big brother is already at the same secondary school this time and so I already know it is a really good school. I know how well they’ve looked after his brother, I know who we need to speak to if we do have any issues and I know that there are some really wonderful teachers there.
Even the one who my eldest was convinced was a bit of a dragon at the beginning seems to have grown on him over the last two years. They do a brilliant activity week every year and have such great facilities. I think you’ve got the message – it’s a good school ha! Plus the boys will be walking home a lot and the car park at the other school was an absolute nightmare.
I’m excited for both of my boys and for myself getting to watch them grow up. I keep wondering what jobs they will have when they grow up. I’m kind of hoping that they have a back-up plan to their current plans to be YouTubers, an actor or a professional footballer. Thankfully there have also been murmurings of police officer and plumber too.
At the moment though, whatever job they randomly decide they like the sound of, I just remind them that if they work hard for whatever it is they do want to be, then it makes it so much more likely. Ultimately whatever job they do, I hope it is something they are passionate about, not something that they wake up dreading. The world is their oyster and all those other cheesy cliché sayings.
Ah to be 11 or 13 like them again, when my biggest concern was being sad about Kurt Cobain whilst listening to Nirvana in a black t-shirt, enough eyeliner to make me look permanently exhausted and trying to look wistful whilst staring into the distance, so that everyone would see how sad I was.
Actually scrap that, 34 is pretty good minus the poor fashion choices and teenage angst. Although I suspect I’ll be experiencing the teenage angst from a different perspective this time … eek can I hear my Mother whispering karma at me somewhere?