Anthony began high school this year. This means a few things. First, it is the last time he and his brother will attend the same school at the same time. They had a nice long run in elementary but will only have this one year left. Unless you count the covid year, that was a very special setup for the two of them as they spent that entire year side by side, and as each other's best friend, they were the ultimate class-mates.

Second, it means Anthony switched school districts, so he had to navigate a whole new system and set of kids. This happens because our kids went to our local elementary and middle school, but they move to the school where Marty teaches for high school. There are manifold advantages to this arrangement but a few wrinkles too. You have the obvious factor of not knowing anyone. Then you have the parent at the school factor. This is largely mitigated by Marty being one of the more popular teachers at the school–walking the halls with her is like playing wing-man to Britney. And, until you can drive, there are challenges of your friends living un-walkable distances away.

That last bit raises something worth discussing. A few days before the school year, Anthony started asking about his commuting options. Confused, Marty and I said that he would walk out of the house, get into the car with his mother and brother and drive to school. He said he might not want to do that. In probing this position further, he finally said he didn't like contributing to the world's emissions issues. We explained that his mother and brother were already making the drive and his tagging along had no added impact. His counter–he didn't want to get accustomed to that sort of practice or comfort. Hmmm.

We discussed the options. Biking to school could get tricky because he'd be sweaty throughout the day. Walking to school would take too long. But we do have a subway line that might do the trick. So the day before school, Anthony and I set out on a test-commute. This was in part to teach him where to go and how to use the metro (e.g., buying tickets, what way to get on, how to know when to get off, etc.).

It was a nice weather day and made for a lovely Sunday afternoon. Curiously, when we walked up the school, it was completely deserted, except for the principal weeding the main flowerbed in front of the school. Knowing him slightly, we approached him. He looked up, a few beads of sweat on his brow. I said, "You gotta have people to do this shit for you, no?" He chuckled and said it calmed his nerves before the tumult of the year took hold. We talked for a few minutes about the school year, I introduced him to Anthony and explained our walking-walk-through. He commended Anthony on his convictions, and we parted ways.

As we walked away, Anthony chastised me for swearing in front of the principal. When I said I didn't swear, Anthony repeated the conversation, verbatim. I said 'shit' was hardly a swear. He told me it was when talking to principals. I conceded that he was probably right and apologized for marring the first impression. Thoughtless on my part.

The next morning, we took our first day of school pictures, hugged our ninth-grader, and watched him set off on his nine-mile solo commute. Thus far, there have only been a few missteps. One time he got lost. As he doesn't have a phone (his choice), he walked around the neighborhood until he saw some elementary kids playing on a front lawn. He went up to the house and asked if their mom was home. Marty taught the kids if they ever got into trouble (or lost) to find a mother with children. Moms were always the safest people to ask for help. Smart lady. Smart boy. He told the lady he was lost and asked if he could use their phone to call home.

Another time Marty and I had a dustup when she let him walk home in a lightning storm. In the end, I was the only one upset by this, and no one understood my concern. My angst might be connected to when I was growing up. My mother discouraged showers during electrical storms because she was afraid the bather might get electrocuted if there was a nearby lightning strike. Also, a few years back, a man in our community was walking by a tree that got hit by lightning. The charge traveled down the trunk, arced to him, and killed him instantly. I could go on, but suffice it to say that while I very much support Anthony's desire and need to do this, I feel some situations merit exceptions.

Oddly, the biggest burden on Marty and I is having to explain to people that this is Anthony's choice and is not some punishment or sign that we can't afford to gas up our car. But aside from the few hiccups, the misperceptions, and a few missed trains, Anthony has proven very capable and independent in this position.

Here is another unique facet of Anthony's high school experience (thus far). After each day, I ask him how things went. I'm ravenous for details, and Anthony is generous in sharing them. I asked him what lunch was like. He explained that on this day, I think it was his second or third day, he asked a boy from one of his classes that seemed cool if he wanted to eat lunch together. The boy said yes. When the boy came up to Anthony where they agreed to meet, he immediately apologized to Anthony, saying something came up, and he couldn't eat that day. Anthony said no problem, and the boy left. Anthony scanned the large lunchroom and noticed a boy sitting alone that was in one of his classes.

Anthony approached and asked if he could join him. A little surprised, the boy said that he could, but there was a large group of people on their way over. Anthony said that wouldn't bother him, and the boy told him to sit. So Anthony did and met a gaggle of upper-classmen. As the boy introduced Anthony, one of the girls said she knew Anthony and our families were long-time friends. Anthony expressed confusion and said he didn't know her. She laughed, called him silly, and explained who her parents were, and yes, they have been long-standing friends from even before either of them were born. You would think a guy that only knows seven people in the building would make the most of those seven connections.

When Anthony told me this story, I asked him if he was nervous. He asked what I meant. I said it seemed like it would be kind of nerve-wracking asking to sit with a group of people you don't know when they all know one another and they are older than you. Weren't you anxious? This led to the following exchange.

ANTHONY
I've thought about that and concluded there is nothing to gain by being nervous so I'm not going to do that.

TROY
Do what?

ANTHONY
Be nervous.

TROY
Like ever?

ANTHONY
Yeah. What's the point?

TROY
I don't know that nervousness is something people choose to do.

ANTHONY
You sure about that?

Our first lesson from all of the above is I think Anthony is going to be just fine in high school.

The second lesson is I am wildly grateful and eager for all of the unexpected things I am sure to learn from this young and fascinating man.