<p>We’re boarding school parents, so we went through this transition when our 14-year-old went off to school three years ago. He was one of those kids who transitioned well, without homesickness, and hit the ground running with little need to communicate with us. Ouch. He’s a senior now, and we’re still lucky if we get him on the phone for any length of time every one or two weeks. We never text. College next year won’t be anything new for him or us; we just hope he ends up some place that can be reached by a non-stop flight as currently no airline flies non-stop from our home to his school, so travel logistics are complicated.</p>
<p>I remember how I felt after his first year and posted this a long time ago on the BS board, but I’ll share it again as many of you who have just sent a child off for this first time are probably having some of these feelings. I can tell you that it gets better, and this separation you’re enduring is an important part of letting your child take the next step toward independent adulthood. That’s a good thing…really…even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Hugs to you all.</p>
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This thought is for parents, but may strike a chord with kids, too. Though it seems obvious, the reality didn’t fully hit us until DS came home this past summer after finishing his first year. He’s never really coming home again. Everyone here (me included) talks about how the kids really aren’t gone that long between breaks and a visit from you on Parents Weekend, but the fact is that they are basically on a college schedule and will probably never again occupy your home full time. We all plan for that when they leave for college, but I didn’t truly understand what the in-your-face reality of sending my 14-year-old far away would look or feel like. I’m telling you this as an older parent who is known in my circles as the least controlling, least clingy, least mother-type of the bunch. I had absolutely no qualms about boarding school last year, not one. I didn’t cry at drop-off and, although I missed him, I placed that emotional cost below the value of the education and experience he was enjoying and still do.</p>
<p>But here’s the thing. This summer, it really hit me that even though he’ll be dropping in for brief periods, he’s basically gone for good. At 14. At 15. Earlier than (it turns out) I was ready for. Sooner than I thought. Our family dynamic has changed forever. Now. Not later. He had an internship this summer that was basically a full-time job. It seems we barely saw him before he was back at school. I realize that that precious room at the end of the hall is basically just a guest room now, a place for him to land occasionally on his flight toward the true independence of his adult life.</p>
<p>I also realize that every child and every family is different. The way your family “connects” may not seem so interrupted by boarding school. Your child may not be quite as independent as mine; when s/he’s home, s/he may be truly “yours”, and your old family life resumes as though s/he never left. That is not what happened to us.</p>
<p>So, what’s the advice in this commentary? To parents who may be sending kids more than a drive away, I’d say to think carefully about ALL the ways remote boarding school can/will affect your family, not just the terrific education it will provide your student. This is not a warning; we would embark again, but I wish I had better understood during the decision process the magnitude of this change, how much we would miss, so perhaps it wouldn’t have hit me so hard when the light bulb finally did go on. Then again, maybe it’s just not possible to understand this until you experience it, and maybe sooner is better than later. I’m not sure. I had no tears then but plenty of hidden tears now; only our cat understands. I wonder if I had known how big this hole in my heart could get, if I would have made a more selfish decision…
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<p>Then, later when kind posters were trying to give me ideas on how to fill the empty time until DS was home again:</p>
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I want to thank all of you for your wonderful comments and PMs. I appreciate all of them, but I’m not sure my post clearly conveyed the subtle distinction between the nine-month empty house that is the obvious result of your child going away to school and the realization that your child may never occupy your house full-time again. The first is the immediate effect for which there is much advance notice, preparation, and advice; the second is a corollary not covered in the handbook and never discussed outright anywhere I’ve looked. I’ve posted about how I often wander into my child’s room, finger his things, and miss him while I imagine what amazing thing he might be doing or learning at the moment, as I’m sure many of you do, too. But in those moments, I’m also thinking about how soon I’ll see him again; I’m never thinking about the permanence of this pattern. To me, it’s a subtle but devastating distinction that I did not clearly understand when we were dancing around the acceptance letter or clinking our martini glasses in the charming town pub after drop-off.</p>
<p>In between those wistful trips to his room, I enjoyed a lot of “me” time last year. DS is our only child, and DH travels most of the week so, for the first time in 14 years, I had my old life back, and much of the time I was enjoying the freedom thinking that I had the best of all worlds; I could live my adult life while my child was getting a world-class education, and we would all get to go back to our wonderful family dynamic in the summer with our “kid”. Then, DS came home, worked all summer on the internship that even took him out of town for a while, and was gone again. I felt cheated somehow, and I wasn’t sure why. I felt that I had lost something important, that something was taken from me when I wasn’t looking, that something hadn’t worked the way it was supposed to.</p>
<p>Slowly, it dawned on me that there was nothing wrong with what had happened or what he had done, but this is the way it’s going to be from now on. When I agreed to boarding school, I was also implicitly agreeing to let him go, really go, not really live here anymore. Now I get that, but I feel that all I have is an amethyst remembrance.</p>
<p>Are you really ready for this?
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