Not the Time of His Life

With middle school comes outdoor school. Ask any adult about outdoor school and more often than not their face lights up and they talk about all their wonderful memories. The words “best time in middle school” are often iterated. It’s a time to be with classmates, counselors and enjoy the outside without parents. My school didn’t have outdoor school but I have been to school and to camp so I get the drift.

It has been with excitement and dread that I watched Mason’s outdoor school approach. Initially I wasn’t sure he would want to go and I was prepared to support him either way. A few months back he said he wanted to go so we have been talking about it and making plans. I have to be careful now that my kids are getting older. I know my mere existence they find embarrassing at times so I have to be extra cautious what I put in print so they don’t disown me yet. I will just say I believe I have kids that are more sensitive than average. Before my kids were even in school “The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping our Children Thrive When the World Overwhelms Them” was a staple on my bedside table. Feelings, the good and the bad, come big in my house. The sensitivity can also extend to clothing (socks worn inside out because they feel better), emotions, sounds, etc. You get the idea. Anyhow, both my kids – with one in particular – like their routines, spaces and down time.

I watched outdoor school approach and did my best to be confident, encouraging and brave. After the first night I convinced myself that things were probably okay because I hadn’t been called. By the second night I was feeling pretty good and the third night I slept like a log feeling like we had overcome a giant hurdle on the road to independence.

Turns out, the “time of his life” was not how he described it. It was hard. He was sad. Really sad. Things got better as the week went on but it wasn’t awesome-to say the least. He wouldn’t do it again and now his sister is pretty sure she wants nothing to do with it.  I have two years to explain that his experience doesn’t equate to what her experience will be. I feel sad that he had a hard time. I feel a little bad when I see all the posts about friends’ kids who had a blast. I am happy for them but sorry that my kid didn’t feel the same.

But, in the middle of it, you know what I am? I am super proud of my kids. I am proud that my younger one goes to school without crying any more. I am proud that my oldest one got on the bus and went to outdoor school when he could have chosen to stay home. I am proud of them for being honest that sometimes they just find life overwhelming. Outdoor school wasn’t the time of his life but how awesome that the time of his life is still ahead of him.