Launching Our Kids

Sam left first today. It was his second day of school, and he’s already confident hailing the #1 bus all the way into the bus terminal in St. George’s. This ride is a rollercoaster, up to the top of the hill town and hairpinning back down again. You are certain that any minute the bus will clip a parked car or pedestrian on one side or dip a wheel into the deep concrete gutter on the other. It seems like in Harry Potter, where fixed objects jump out of the way of the careening Knight Bus.

At the terminal, Sam gets the #7 bus around the bend, past the national cricket stadium, and uphill on Tempe Rd. Around 7:30am, the bus carries many students, all in various versions of a school uniform, which gets them a discounted fare. It’s pretty neat to see how the bus drivers and tenders look out for all the uniformed school kids as they disperse throughout the city. Sam knocks a knuckle on the window for a stop just steps from his school.

Sam is attending St. George’s Institute. It’s a private secondary school of just over a hundred co-ed students, mostly Grenadian. The school has multiple buildings with large classroom windows to catch the breeze across the hill. The system has British origins. They nominate student leaders as prefects and have a house system for good-natured school competitions. Sam has sorted into the Amber Lions, who face off against Turquoise Tigers and Sterling Stallions. Their informal uniform is a gold polo shirt with dress slacks. On Mondays, though, they wear white dress shirts and a tie. They change into shorts for physical education.

Stella left second this morning for her first day of school, wearing her own uniform. She dresses each day in a navy-blue polo shirt and pleated khaki skirt. It’s her new favorite outfit. I accompany her in hopping on a #1 bus, heading towards Grand Anse, in the opposite direction from Sam. It’s a quick ride, winding down the busy main road. We knock the window at the Food Fair, across from the Radisson Beach Resort, and then walk about five minutes uphill to her school.

Stella is attending Island Montessori school. It has students from pre-primary through primary school (6^th grade) and some secondary school students. Stella’s in a classroom of twelve students, aged 9-12 years, and is lucky to have air conditioning in that classroom. The Montessori school also has houses: Earth (Stella’s house), Fire, and Water. When I picked her up outside the school gates this afternoon, she had just finished Kung Fu—their Thursday physical education.

Neither of our kids has ever been the new kid in school before. It’s big. Plus, there are schedule surprises and different maths and a Grenadian dialect to which to tune their ears. We’re rooting for them as they practice doing hard things.

For my part, I got my first solo time since we left New York. From Stella’s school this morning, I walked downhill and across to Grand Anse Beach. It was people-quiet. Most of the rows of lounge chairs were empty. I walked that piece of firm, damp sand with the waves just covering my ankles and splashing my calves. I walked to the far South end where the waves got bigger and broke on the rocks at the base of the cliff. From this view, I could see the entire curving beach. Grand Anse was moody today. The waves were a bit rowdy. Big cumulus clouds moved across the sky, looking like the breaking waves. Rain mist clung to the distant hills. The whole place mirrored my own mood after launching our kids.

Then I walked North, stopping once for a swim and once to buy mangoes and starfruit and golden apples. I walked to the other end, where concrete steps led up to the main road. I stood on the steps under a sea almond tree just in time for a cloudbursting rain. Watching the scenery disappear in heavy rain, I felt invigorated and also like I could take a nap. Everything is so much here. I was dripping wet from sweat and the swim and the rain. I wanted to drink in everything. The rain passed. I walked home.