I can tell you what it’s like to be the grandmother of a wee one who has to be lifted up by the arms and placed on the first step (because it’s too high for his short legs) of that big yellow bus. And that bus is so big and noisy that tears start streaming down his tiny face as he turns imploringly back to you. You can read it in his eyes—he doesn’t have to beg, "Please, Grannie, take me back home. Don’t make me go."

What earlier in the morning had began as a great adventure, suddenly becomes a terrifying unknown. And where once there had been a brave little warrior there stands the baby that he truly is. Your heart melts and aches like nothing it has encountered before. You have qualms yourself. He knows, and you know, no one that will be riding the bus with him. Who will make sure he gets off the bus at the right stop? Who will show him which classroom is his? Who will make sure he gets on the bus after school at the right time? Who will make sure he gets on the right bus? Who will make sure he doesn’t fall asleep and miss his stop going to school or coming home? Too late you wish you had asked all these questions before his mother and dad left for work.

The school bus driver patiently waits while you try to console the love of your life on his first day of school. This is a credit to the driver, as he has an hour drive to pick up all the kids on his route and get them to school on time—and probably deal with other ‘first time’ mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Silently you look up at the driver and hold up one finger, asking for just one more minute to get the persuasion process in gear. Briefly he nods, but begins to fidget and glance at his watch as the minutes tick away.

You hug your baby grandson to you and kiss the top of his head. All the while whispering how everything will be fine and the bus driver is such a nice man who will take very good care of him and make sure he gets to school and goes to the right room where his new teacher will be waiting for him. And how there will be other kids riding the bus too and how much fun it will be; almost like he is such a big boy now and can do things all by himself. You remind him of all the other children he will have to play with now (he’s an only child, so having playmates has always been very important to him).

He is crying so hard by now that he begins to hiccup and struggle to breath. You are beginning to have hysterical thoughts of your own. What to do? You can’t send him off like this, but you can’t fail his parents by not filling your responsibility to him and them.

Your tears have begun to mingle with his as he grips your neck in the tiny vice of his arms. You look up once more at the bus driver. Now he is staring straight ahead, trying not to witness the unfolding drama on his doorstep. He can’t wait much longer. Other children are waiting and may think they have missed the bus and he just can’t afford to be late to school on his first day out. You can almost hear him praying that this will end soon and you begin to feel almost as sorry for the driver as you do for your grandson.

Finally you find the strength to pull the tiny arms from around your neck. You have wiped away your own tears so that he won’t see that you too have been weeping—this you know would only make his perception of ‘first day’ even worse. His own crying has finally eased to minor sniffles. Firmly you raise his chin and look into his eyes. You tell him again that today he is a big boy and today he will board his bus and go to his school alone. Smiling your biggest and brightest smile, he feels the contagion and the beginnings of a tiny smile turn up the corners of his tiny mouth. "Ok, Grannie. I love you."

"I love you, too, baby."

He turns and stretches his little hand up to the rail and pulls himself up the remainder of the bus steps. Now the driver is smiling down at Grannie as he closes the doors and waves her good-bye.

You stand there and wave to the little face that has popped up in the window and smiles down at you from tear-stained streaks. He has made it. His first day of growth, learning, and adventure has just begun and you know he will be okay. But what about you?

You quickly rush back to your parked car and with tears running down your cheeks again, you start the car and at a discreet distance pull out behind the bus, wiping hard at the tears, and follow it on its route to school. Then you sit across the street and discreetly watch as he climbs down from the bus—jumping from that first high step. A teacher is there to greet the beginners and line them up for the walk to their classroom.

They have disappeared inside and you drive away; smiling. You know that your brave little warrior is back and he’ll make it.

Of, course, you will be sitting across the street again at three o’clock to see him get on his bus and to follow the bus back to his bus stop just in time to be there to pick him up—as though you had never left.

And together you will both have grown up one more day.

Again I can only say, I’m sorry I can’t give any good useful advice to Back to Schoolers—Or School for First-Timers. I’m only a grandmother and this truly was my Back to School for a First-Timer. And it may not be my last.

Sandra E. Graham, author, AMOS JAKEY and NICOLINA through American Book Publishing. Visit my website for more info on my writing:

http://www.sandragraham-articles-books.com