Article September 6, 2004 Issue

STARTING SCHOOL AGAIN

By Sarah Brokensha

When I Look Back toward Michael, there's no mistaking that carrot–red hair over a wet, freckled face. I try to slip unobtrusively through the school gate and out to my car before yet another mother smiles at my own crumpled, tear–stained face.

Yes, I've been through this twice before with our daughters, and I should know better. But this time it's different. Michael's the last one to be leaving the nest, and he's a boy—who's meant to be tougher and better able to cope with this emotional stuff. If I don't want him to cry, what am I doing gushing like the Umhlali River we've just crossed on the way to school? Who needs a weeping mother as a role model? And, let's face it, it's only a four–hour separation.

That was almost eight months ago. Yes, I've stopped crying. And, yes, I've learned some invaluable lessons.

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