I stood in the rain this morning waiting with my son, a newly minted fourth grader, for the familiar sight of the school bus as it rode up the hill toward the bus stop. <!–more–>The kids didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about returning to their academic routine. Maybe it was because of the rain. Or maybe it was because this first day of school was no different than any other for them.

But for my three brothers and I the first day of school often meant the first day in a NEW school, in a new city. Out of thirteen years of matriculation, nine of those years were spent in different schools. From Virginia to Nebraska to Oklahoma to Arkansas to Maryland to North Dakota, with various stops in between back to Virginia, I’ve spent quite a few years being “the new kid.” I don’t now how my brothers felt about it but for me it was always kind of exciting. New clothes, new school supplies, new school, new teachers, and a whole new set of friends to make.

One of the advantages of being a military brat and moving around a lot was the ability to re-invent myself in another school. I may have been the resident spazz in Nebraska, but in Oklahoma I could be one of the cool girls. I was somewhat popular in Maryland by default (I was the only Black kid in my class). In North Dakota me and my best friend were adventurers – we covered almost every inch of that base. By the time I reached high school in Virginia I had a split personality. But it enabled me to be friends with cool kids, geeks, athletes, smart kids and everything in between.

Unfortunately, one of the disadvantages of all that interstate traveling was the fact that friends never lasted long. Friendships seldom lasted more than a year or two before someones dad was shipped off to another base. As military kids we knew it was pointless to try to keep in touch (this was before the Internet and email). The ones moving away often didn’t have a permanent address yet and even once they did, the ones that stayed would be moving soon themselves. As military kids we learned to make friends fast, enjoy the time we would have together, then move on…no tears, no regrets (well, maybe just a little bit of both).

I watched my son hop onto the bus surrounded by familiar friends, headed toward a familiar school, and preparing to begin anew his familiar school day routine. Part of what I’ve always wanted for my kids was to be able to keep them in one place for awhile; let them develop life-long friendships instead of the intense, but brief, ones that I had, and to let them have that feeling of community. But part of me feels a sense of regret that the first day of school won’t have the same sense of excitement and adventure that it had when I was a kid. But then again, I guess it’s not supposed to. After all, I can’t make my childhood theirs. And as long as they look forward to going back to school, I feel as though I’ve done something right.

My son, and my high schooler daughter, will come home this afternoon with a gazillion forms for me to sign and tell me about their new teacher or that new kid in class, etc. That part of the routine, at least, always remains the same.