The night before my son’s freshman orientation, I found myself channel surfing and stumbled upon Sixteen Candles, a classic film that shaped my teenage years. I vividly remember the first time I watched it; I was a freshman myself, skipping the senior prom with my best friend. Instead, we treated ourselves to a movie day, and I fell head over heels for Jake Ryan. Fast forward thirty years, and that 14-year-old girl is now a mom to a 14-year-old boy, who’s about to embark on his own high school journey.
While the nostalgia of that movie filled me with joy, it was soon replaced by a wave of anxiety. What if my son sneaks out, attends wild parties, or finds himself in a compromising situation? Not if I can help it!
As I strolled through the halls of his new school the next day, I was flooded with memories of my first day. The overwhelming size of the school, the distance between classes, and the fear of being late—would I remember my locker combination? My son’s high school is massive compared to mine, with a freshman class nearing 800 students. I graduated in a class of 344. Back then, I had no computer at home, and I lugged around multiple textbooks. My son doesn’t even seem to need a locker, and the library felt sparse and uninviting.
Despite all these changes, some things remain the same. Observing the other freshmen, I saw the same mix of eagerness and trepidation I felt years ago. They walked closely with their parents but kept a polite distance, perhaps not wanting to appear too attached in front of their peers. I remember thinking I didn’t need my parents, convinced they couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through. How mistaken I was!
The cliques were evident from their outfits: boys in khakis and polos flashing smiles, others in gym shorts giving high-fives, those in laid-back board shorts seeming indifferent, and a few in jeans who occasionally looked up from their phones. Couples strolled hand in hand, while the girls appeared to exude a confidence I didn’t have at their age.
Posters lined the walls announcing senior picture sign-ups, the student council was bustling, and cheerleaders were selling spirit gear. As I closed my eyes, I was transported back to the ‘80s, hearing the laughter and chatter blend with the echoes of my past. I could almost smell the familiar school scent and hear the soundtrack of The Breakfast Club playing in my mind, reminding me of simpler worries, like matching my nail polish to my earrings.
And so, this new chapter begins for my son. He’s filled with mixed emotions, feeling the weight of expectations that seems heavier than those I faced. Now, he’s also a high school athlete, a runner ready to tackle the marathon of high school life. From early morning practices to late-night study sessions, football games, and yes, even parties—he’s on a journey that will shape him. With every mile he runs, he’ll grow more independent, eventually needing me less. He’s training for the day he crosses that finish line and steps into his own future. I hope he enjoys every moment and builds memories to cherish, just as I did.
As I watch him take these steps, I can’t help but feel bittersweet. I have to resist the urge to croon, “Don’t you forget about me…”
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Summary
This heartfelt letter reflects a mother’s nostalgia and apprehension as her son embarks on his high school journey. She recalls her own experiences while recognizing the changes and similarities in today’s school environment. Balancing pride and sadness, she hopes her son will create lasting memories and thrive in this new chapter of his life.