As Last School Day Arrives, Thinking Back to the First

The La Grange Class of 2022 graduates next week Thursday.

As their last day of school approaches, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about their first day of school – some 13 years ago.

I was there.

This graduating class includes Ella, our oldest child.

I imagine for most parents, the high school graduation of their oldest child is particularly emotional. It certainly is for us.

But back on that mid-August morning in 2009, it was pretty emotional, too.

Ella and the other members of the Hermes Elementary kindergarten class were just starting that long road to graduation. Chrystal and I walked Ella into the now-demolished hallway of classrooms nearest the playground.

Her homeroom was Mrs. Boothe’s class, one door down from where I had Mrs. Hall for fourth grade 20 years prior. I took a lot of comfort in the familiarity of it all.

Ella posed for a quick photo at the door to the classroom. We still have that photo. She’s got a brave but nervous smile on her face.

We walked Ella in, found her desk and she sat down to work on a color sheet. We lingered (probably too long, a few feet away), but finally walked out, worried about what that day might hold – not to mention the next 13 years.

But we were young parents and couldn’t quite handle it.

We had found out when her recess period was and drove back to the school that afternoon, sat in our car in the parking lot along Milam Street and tried to look for her.

I feared she might be alone at recess and scared, or worse, crying.

I don’t remember exactly what we saw during our spy mission, but I do remember she seemed fine out there on the playground, and my wife and I were a little embarrassed about being so worried.

Back then I marveled at how quickly she was growing up. But time kept going faster and faster.

How did this happen so quickly? Parenthood is a crazy thing.

It was a blur ...

A pregnancy test and tears turned into a helpess, crying bundle (not unlike her father in that respect).

There were days of slowly figuring out diapers, and baths, and bottles.

Then a crawl, followed all too quickly by a step.

There were daycares and birthday parties.

Running down the street and letting go of the bike.

T-ball games and track meets and band concerts.

Braces on, braces off.

First job, first car.

You blink and suddenly she’s going to prom and measured for a cap and gown.

As I’m writing this I find myself, as probably most senior parents have been doing lately, thinking back about other details of her childhood I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

There’s a desk in my office I never open. All of our kids used it to store stuff (toys) when they came to spend time at dad’s office. But our younger boys grew up in the era of smart phones. Ella had to be a little more creative in the office. This week I opened that old desk drawer. There’s one of Ella’s old storybooks in it “Giraffes Can’t Dance” a couple old DVDs “The Incredibles” and “Milo and Otis.” There’s a single gray sequined glove and a purple sequined scarf. Crumpled up at the bottom of the drawer was a sheet of notebook paper. In handwriting I estimate to be that of a third grade Ella it says, “Hi my name is Ella Wick and my friends and I are going to save the tigers. Why are we doing this you ask? The reason we are doing this is because I love animals I always did and always will and another reason is because they are almost extinct.”

What a great time capsule to open this week.

One final anecdote. When I first got my cell phone in La Grange, I didn’t know what to record as the voicemail message. I got Ella to record one for me.

In the cartoonishly highpitched voice of a five year old she says “Congratulations, you have reached the Jeff Wick voicemail. Please leave a message, bye-bye.”

Thirteen years later, it’s still the message people hear when I don’t pick up the phone.

It’s hardly professional.

But it’s perfect.

Happy graduation to all the local kids getting their diploma over the next few days.

In the eyes of your parents, part of you will always be those little kids at the doorway of a classroom, wearing a brave but nervous smile.

As you walk across that graduation stage, know that you all have made your parents very, very proud.