As my son prepares to embark on his high school journey, I find myself reflecting on my own experiences. Just the night before his freshman orientation, I stumbled upon Sixteen Candles, a classic film that defined my teenage years. I vividly recall watching it for the first time as a high school freshman, feeling a mix of excitement and longing. Back then, my best friend and I consoled ourselves with movie outings since we weren’t invited to the senior prom. My affection for that film runs deep; I still have a soft spot for Jake Ryan!
Fast forward thirty years, and now I’m the parent of a 14-year-old boy starting ninth grade. The joy that once filled me during those movie nights has been replaced by a wave of apprehension. What if my son sneaks out, attends wild parties, or engages in risky behaviors? Not on my watch!
The next day, as I strolled through his new high school, a rush of nostalgia washed over me. I remember my own freshman year: the daunting size of the building, the anxiety about getting lost, and wondering if I’d ever remember my locker combination. My son’s school is a giant compared to mine—three times larger, with a freshman class nearing 800 students. I graduated in a class of just 344 and had to juggle several textbooks each year; my son doesn’t carry any at all! I’m left questioning the need for a locker when resources are so digital now.
While wandering the halls, I observed the sea of freshmen, each wearing expressions of eagerness mixed with apprehension. They gravitated towards their parents for reassurance, yet shied away from overt displays of affection. I couldn’t help but recall my own teenage years when I was convinced I had it all figured out, dismissing my parents’ wisdom. How mistaken I was!
From the fashion choices, I could spot the cliques forming already—boys in khaki shorts and polos flashing smiles at the girls, while others donned gym shorts and t-shirts, giving high fives. Meanwhile, a few students in stylish jeans and button-ups looked eager yet distracted by their phones. The girls seemed more self-assured than I ever was at their age.
Bright posters urged students to sign up for senior photos and cheerleaders enthusiastically promoted school spirit gear. Closing my eyes, I could almost transport myself back to the 1980s—the laughter, the familiar school smells, and the soundtrack of The Breakfast Club echoing in my mind. I longed to relive the simple worries of my youth, like coordinating my nail polish with my earrings or making it home in time to catch the latest episode of General Hospital.
And so, my son steps into this new chapter filled with both excitement and pressure—pressure that feels heavier than what I experienced as a freshman. He’s also taken on the role of a high school athlete, a runner, beginning his marathon of high school life. Early practices, late-night study sessions, team travels, football games, dating, Homecoming, and yes, the inevitable parties. With each step, he’ll gain confidence and independence, gradually needing me less and less. I can only hope he cherishes these moments and creates memories to pass down when he takes his own child to high school orientation someday. It’s bittersweet, watching him prepare to cross that finish line.
I have to resist the urge to sing, “Don’t you forget about me…” as he embarks on this journey.
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In summary, watching my son venture into high school brings a mix of nostalgia and concern, as I reminisce about my own experiences and embrace his journey ahead.
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