As September rolls around, my children are ready to make the journey to school independently. They’re certainly old enough (or so I believe). I’ve taught them to look both ways before crossing the street, even if I’ve never witnessed them actually do it. Plus, the school is just a stone’s throw from our front door, so I feel confident they’ll manage just fine.
Last year, we attempted a trial run, which went well until my son’s teacher reported that he was acting like a wild child on the way to school. With that news, I regretfully decided to halt the experiment.
However, a new school year brings new opportunities for growth. My son is now three months older and, presumably, wiser. He’s moving up to second grade, while my daughter is entering the fourth grade. If they aren’t capable of walking to school by themselves now, then when will they be? I have no intention of shuttling my kids back and forth until they’re old enough to drive. While many parents choose that route, I’ve always found it a bit perplexing.
Years ago, I chose to settle in this town partly because of its walkability. Unlike the sprawling suburbs of my childhood, this community allows residents to stroll to the park, schools, and downtown areas. At that time, my husband and I shared a single car, and with both of us commuting to the city, it was all we needed.
Now, with two cars and two children, I’m eager to stop driving them anywhere they can walk as soon as they’re ready. Until this year, I’ve been hustling them just a couple of blocks to school, anxiously waiting for the morning bell and then rushing home to repeat the process six hours later. That makes for an exhausting 1,440 trips—and I’ve dreaded every single one. It’s not that I’m particularly lazy; I actually enjoy walking. However, if I didn’t have to escort them, I could reclaim an extra 45 minutes in my day, maybe more. I also dislike the morning trek because it requires extra effort on my part, and I don’t fancy doing my hair and makeup just to come back home to shower and start all over again. Yet I persist. I want to maintain the illusion of grace and competence.
My frustration with this twice-daily routine even led me to consider relocating to another town solely based on their busing system and the time my kids would spend on the bus. But that reason wasn’t compelling enough for my husband, so I resigned myself to what felt like an endless cycle of school drop-offs.
Then it dawned on me: why shouldn’t they walk on their own? I had completely overlooked the fact that kids grow up.
This year is the year. It’s time to give this another shot. I’m fairly certain they won’t meet their demise crossing the one neighborhood street without a crossing guard. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
So, when can they become latchkey kids?
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Summary
As the new school year approaches, the author contemplates allowing her children to walk to school independently. Despite past challenges, she recognizes their growth and readiness for this responsibility. With a desire to reclaim her time and a belief in their ability to navigate the neighborhood safely, she is ready to embrace this new chapter in parenting.