Ice Maker, Not Ice Breaker

I felt obliged to attend the ice cream social. Good news: My son decided to register for the new high school next year, and this event was our chance to get a closer look at the student body all at once. However, he had no interest in the ice cream social. I understood where he was coming from--those situations can be awkward. But I'm the mom, and...

He was right. It was awkward--the standing around, the ice cream he didn't want to eat, my six-year-old pulling on my arm, my coat, my sweater. Plus, I know too many people. The Assistant Principal and I taught together my first year in the county. A bunch of current students were in my English class last year, and a bunch of rising 9th graders are in my class now. I chatted; he didn't. 

There was that moment when I wanted to push. "Go get a puzzle piece," I insisted when their informal group activity began. That is, until I saw in his eyes that he was not budging on this one. Thirty seconds later, we bailed. 

"I know you didn't like that," I said, "But I'm glad we went. Everyone looks happy with the place."

"Mmm," he acknowledged.

Then he got first pick on the dinner we picked up on the way home, and I looked ahead to a time he could go back to this new school without me.