I went to my last Back to School Night tonight. It was not bittersweet. And it is not the last Back to School Night my kids’ schools will hold. In man-years, I should have another 11 Back to School Nights to go. But I won’t. Because, after 28 man-year Back to School Nights, I am done.
There is the pitch from the principal at the outset, introducing the PTA president and the staff, and talking of the all-kids-go-to-college theme of the school.
And there is the pitch in each classroom for parental involvement, parental attention, and tissues and paper towels.
And there is me, who walks away not even halfway through the 28th Back to School Night – harboring a high school junior, a high school sophomore, and a sixth grader – who thinks, “What the ever fucking hell am I doing here?” And so I walk away, and I come home early to the pulled pork that has been brewing all day, and I pop open a Lime-A-Rita and make myself a pulled pork sandwich and explain to all who want to hear that I am done.
I can do no more.