Recently I seem to have been worrying, well, whittling really, about my son’s next big journey to secondary school.
He himself, mentioned it the other day, complaining about the fact that all his friends are off to the local grammar.
It has obviously been playing on his mind so I, vicariously, seem to have picked up the mantel of skepticism.
It is totally unwarranted really, I know this, I know I am just suffering from Mummy paranoia. When I was 11, I went to a tiny village school. So my adventure to secondary school was a rather daunting one. However I don’t remember feeling that scared at the time. I just caught the bus, (on my own) walked to my new big secondary school in the town, (on my own), and sat down with my new classmates who I didn’t know from Adam! And I survived! Why I don’t think my son will survive is totally unfounded whittling! I need to stop it.
I did explain to my son about my experience, and this seemed to help him feel a little better. But until he actually gets there and settles in there really is nothing much we can do about it! The fact is that not ALL of his friends are going to the grammar, there will be some he knows, so he’s better off than I was to start with. I am being a daft over-protective Mumma. I must accept he is growing up and needs to experience life for himself (with only just a little help from Mum and Dad).
I just hope he doesn’t get lost (metaphorically speaking) at this huge school and lose his way. I’m sure he won’t, this last year he has shown signs of turning into a young accomplished adult and we have extremely mature debates on all sorts of topic from household finance to endangered animals! He will be fine. I am determined to enjoy his last months at primary school, savor the fact that he is not far away from teenage-hood when the real fun begins!
Why oh why, do us adults remember so little of our own childhood experience when it comes to our kids? I know, there are those that say there are that many more dangers now, but are there, really? Maybe there are new internet dangers which we didn’t have access to as youngsters. But there is also an argument that says there was not so much media hype in the seventies to spread the word to the masses, of all the dangers there are out there on the street. We still had bullies, pedophiles, murderers, drug dealers etc etc then. So what’s the difference now? I was maybe lucky that I was brought up in a village environment which was a bit like living in a bubble… But my husband was brought up in the town and the kids were out playing in the street just the same.
I guess one real difference is Community, or lack thereof. I know my neighbors by sight for a quick wave in the morning, but that is all. We do not socialize in any shape or form. I have no doubt some streets in the country still have the old community feel, but I am not aware of any personally. We keep ourselves to ourselves, wrap our children up in cotton wool and hope for the best! All my son’s activities are with clubs that have trained instructors, health and safety policies etc. etc.
I chastise myself for not letting go of the apron strings.. However my daughter has made friends with some girls at the back of us, and they play all the time. We have even made a little gate in the fence so they can come and go into each others gardens. So maybe this innocence of youth is not totally lost on my kids, I just wish I could be more relaxed about it!
On that note, I just need to nip to the school to give my daughter some Calpol at lunchtime… I know…. fussy Mummy strikes again!!!
Target: Stop Whittling!
Certainly not Done!