Last week in The Leader

The Portland Leader Sept 27 column entry

From Mama to Mummy

Cayce Pirtle Davis

“What’s that on your pants?” I ask my son as I lean down to remove what I can only hope was a clean scrap of toilet paper stuck to his backside.  “Mom! They’re ‘trousers’!”

Yes, yes, “trousers.” Because “pants” are underwear.  The British school year began 2 weeks ago and my expat children aren’t the only ones with vocabulary words to learn.  

The onset of Year 7 and Year 3 as they call it here, the 6th and 2nd grades respectively, brought many firsts for the oldest Davis children.  Instead of beginning Middle School, my 11 year old son Jacob jumped right into the adolescent deep-end and began Secondary School here in England, walking the halls with students already driving and shaving.

He also now wears a suit, complete with a crest on the jacket and matching school tie, and crisp white button-downs have replaced Star Wars t-shirts.  Luckily he doesn’t mind.  He’s a pretty agreeable kid and trousers are no less comfortable to him than blue jeans.  Before and after school are busy times of the day for us, and I love that his wardrobe is one less thing we have to worry about.

That lack of worry extends to his sister’s school clothes as well. At 7, she’s very opinionated about what she does and does not want to wear.  Luckily her uniform is more casual, consisting of a collared top, skirt, and cardigan.  In warm months she can wear a light weight yellow gingham dress that, paired with bobby socks and pigtails, make her look like she stepped out of the pages of a “Dick and Jane” book.  Suprisingly, she enjoys the comfort and uniformity of her new school clothes.  

Besides, at the end of the school day, after bags are plopped on the kitchen table and shoes are perfectly scattered to be tripped over, the kids change into whatever they want.  I respect that they have individual tastes, even if that sometimes means ordering a pair of turquoise suspenders for a daughter who fights with belts more than she does her siblings (and that’s saying a lot).

Our routine really isn’t that different than it was in North Carolina or Tennessee.  There are still permission slips to sign, new math to learn, and reading every evening.  We do have some catching up in some areas since we are coming from such a different curriculum, but for the most part, back-to-school feels the same as it did in the States.  

That is until my son tells me he needs a “rubber,” and I’m suddenly very grateful that I’ve done MY vocabulary homework and learned that he’s just looking for an eraser.

 

(Photos were not in the paper)