First days
When I moved to Teaneck 27 years ago, my block was a lot different. Almost every house had young children living in it. The houses that didn’t, well, I still couldn’t tell you who lives in them because I never met them. On my side of the block, there were at least 15 kids in either elementary school or high school, and the other side of the block there were probably more.
Every morning you heard the sounds of carpool horns honking, some more cantankerous sounding than others. The heaving sounds of school bus engines speeding up and slowing down. The mothers screaming their kids’ names “Shmaryahu!!!!! You are going to be late!!!!”
Twenty-seven years ago, I already had gotten closed out of a 2-year-old “playgroup” and decided that was a sign from God that I was meant to stay home with my boys and entertain them myself. Fortunately, that resulted in meeting other mommies, forming our own playgroups, and taking adorable classes that my boys still talk about to this day. Maybe that’s because their artwork is still hanging up, and we use their homemade havdalah trays every week.
The years went by. I became one of those cantankerous sounding honkers, carpooling to nursery school, carpooling to the bus stop, carpooling to camp when the price of busing almost surpassed the cost of camp, carpooling to high school, carpooling to hockey carpool. Worrying about my boys carpooling to high school and hockey carpool.
The first day of school came and went this year, when I realized how my block has changed. When did that happen? I think there might only be one or two houses that have kids who go on a school bus now. If I were a better neighbor, I would probably know for sure, but it is what it is. I started our block’s WhatsApp group during covid so I feel I have done my part.
There could be carpools, but my sleep is so erratic that I usually get my best slumber from 5:30 to 7:30 a.m., and perhaps I am sleeping through the honking. Though that sleep schedule will probably be different next week or even tonight! Good times this perimenopause, menopause, being a Jewish mother…whatever it is.
For six years, I had my surrogate granddaughter, so I always knew when the first day of school was, but, alas, she has outgrown me. I am not sure if I wrote about that. It was very sad, but my beautiful little caterpillar is now a beautiful little sixth-grade butterfly and she no longer needs me. What’s crazy is that Strudel is almost the age that surrogate granddaughter was when I started watching her. And I am also the same age as when I started watching her. Don’t tell anyone.
Strudel started big-girl school this year. I cannot even believe it. And her sister started the play group that Strudel was in two years ago. And still I have not gotten any older. Apparently, it has been 25 years since Son #1 started big-boy school. And still I have not gotten any older. Though it is harder to get out of bed in the morning because every body part needs time to work itself out, but that is a whole other story. And not one any of you wants to hear about.
I do have new surrogate grandchildren this year, but I am awaiting permission to incorporate them into my column. My feeling is the following: if I can’t see my own grandchildren every day, it’s nice to see someone else’s. And I can continue to work on my coloring skills because Strudel is almost done with all my flowers and hearts. It is time to move on to animals and humans. And I am really not so talented in that department.
In any event, to all of those parents who are starting the school journey, I wish you much luck and even more patience. It goes by quicker than you can say, “How much did tuition go up this year???????”
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck still remembers what she wore on her first day of high school. She isn’t going into detail because she doesn’t want anyone to mock her.
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