No, I am not lost on an American high school campus (I am just old... and Canadian!)

Back-to-school night for two of my sons was the 26th of August 2024, or the last 8-8-8 portal of this month, if you are a numerology geek (honestly, there are worse geekinesses to have).

As I wander among other parents, trying to find my way on campus, I can't help but reminisce about my own back-to-school days, or ''rentrée scolaire.'' I also cannot resist comparisons, as if to justify my feeling of being so out of place... And in all honesty, I cannot imagine my boomer parents doing a version of this intellectual treasure hunt, year after year, times three...

The weather is at least a solid 32 C, and even if not particularly humid, despite my minimalist attire (light summer dress and flip-flops), I feel like the air is a flaming cape around my body, which is also concomitantly experiencing both a mirroring adolescence by having its period AND hot flashes from peri-menopause. Not fun.

So I imagine what it is like to be a student at that school, changing classes at every period (as opposed to the teachers doing that in the high school I attended). A campus (university, hospital...) always caused me some anxiety... The vastness of it... bigger than a village sometimes. What if I get lost? Or get late? I feel all these fears from my adolescence rushing in... I have two sons in the same school, so two itineraries. It seems like the best is for me to attend my oldest son's (or my senior... oh my goddess, sounds so weird, right?), since my kids' dad decided to follow our... freshman's (yes! Got it right! It took me a while to memorize that...) itinerary.

Okay, pause. This freshman-sophomore-junior-senior sequence here in the USA doesn't make much sense to me. In Canada, we have elementary school from kindergarten to 6th grade, no middle school, then high school, from 1st to 5th year. No confusing ''junior'' year designation (I would have put it instead of freshman and stuff: junior, less junior, almost senior, senior. Voilà. More descriptive, spectrum-like and crescendological!).

This is all happening in my head while I feel so out of space, trying to locate the asteroid-sounding name of the class, R-206, for AP calculus (what is AP? Advanced placement? It turns out I guessed right! Again! And wooooaaah, my driven son has 5 of those!!!). I read that the third period is ''flex'', a personal or self-learning time as I understand it. Cool, this way I get to go to my other son's station on D-5 during that time, making sure our middle child is not suffering from stereotypical, relative neglect. So glad the kind school staff printed both schedules!

As I walk towards Ominous Calculus, I am haunted by these thick exercise books I went through (and had a few metaphysical wars against) during community college, from ages 17 through 19. This type of school was the obligatory step before university in Québec. Years later, I often had nightmares during which I could no longer do integral equations... This still haunts me to this day, and I worry that the teacher will quiz us this evening... I once was fluent in algebra, calculus... now it is just a buried mother tongue I no longer use in my mind's country of adoption, AKA an inexact science called medicine, then psychiatry...

Call it absent-mindedness, lack of BSTN literacy, or old age, confusion is quick to set in... Once near the door for R-206, where I got with plenty of time in advance, I realized that I should have gone to flex instead, because per instructions (on another sheet), it was ''advisory'' (another word for that flex thing) we all needed to start with. I was supposed to be at AP calculus only 15 min later, as the first class, but station two, after advisory (are you still following?). I hesitated and thought about rushing to D-5 (where flex takes place for my ''senior'' who will always be my... junior) but I decided against it... I snuck out of the class and came right back in 5 min later, ensuring I would sit at a different location to make sure the teacher wouldn't notice I was a repeat... As if repeating a class, a year, a life... At least I wasn't quizzed... on that.

I saw my friend Shiva, whose sons used to hang out with mine. I am still very fond of them, of her. Seeing her as we walked towards English class at B-5 felt comforting like finding your best friend at the cafeteria in high school. The teacher was sick so I decided to go to my freshman's computer science station during that time. 

The evening went like that, from 6:00 until 7:30. I miss the cool ''rentrées'' in my native Québec, generally in September, when it is a nice, crispy weather inviting you to wear plaid bérets, skirts or kilts with tights, and experiencing the magic of getting school supplies including a new pencil pouch matching my kilt (and yes, béret). My mom would take pictures of us with our brown leather school bags and lunchboxes with thermos. I did that with my kids for a while (except that they had backpacks and were leaving on bikes) until they no longer wanted to. I got excited for them when they first started attending school, and I think it communicated healthy enthusiasm and openness. We had a celebratory breakfast each year and last year I came up with ''School of Life'' supplies for all of them. I have nostalgia. I sit in those classrooms and recognize subtle school smells at times. School was a safe space for me, for the longest time. My wildest fantasy was to have a sleepover in the chemistry lab! Now I realize my textbooks were an escape. I was addicted to good grades probably because I had very low sense of worth and being studious gave me a sense of self-efficacy and boosted my self-esteem. If I performed well on exams, my parents showed interest in me, were proud of me and then I felt lovable, also to teachers. Studying and getting results accordingly gave me a sense of control in a life I felt I had very little control over. But it never completely filled the void. I wish my sons and all students knew that school is transient and is not all there is. I did have some fun and followed some of my passions though, like ballet-jazz for 4 years, being an announcer for the school radio, acting in an amateur movie written by my friend. But if I were to do this again, I would follow more of them, like stepping out of my comfort zone to do theater or improv, and some physical activity like track or competitive skiing, because I would have benefited from residing in my head less often. Conceptual intelligence is helpful, but insufficient to navigate our world and make it better. It doesn't replace tactfulness, thoughtfulness or the intentionality of kindness. Emotional, social and spiritual forms of intelligence are key to an authentic, fulfilling life. We need to teach students to balance their brain hemispheres by expanding their interests and meditating (which helps becoming more compassionate, emotionally regulated, focused and intellectually flexible). I encourage you to keep an open mind too.

Upon leaving the physics classroom (yes, another AP class where I thought that for a while my son and I would share a similar interest... energy... even though my application of the concept has broadened widely over the years), I felt compassion for myself because I learned surrounded by different linguistic cues while I was in that stage of my life; even in English, the names for certain things is hard to guess. For instance, prime numbers means ''nombres premiers'' in French. Translating literally from French would lead to ''first numbers''. Prime, although related, is more associated with ''prime minister''. So there was another step, besides the direct translation, in my learning. It was like learning a whole other concept. 

Yes, I might have seen lost, disoriented or confused on many levels that evening. But don't forget that I am Canadian (and yes, ok, a bit older than you, and slower to adapt to technology).

Always have some understanding for these immigrant students or descendants of immigrants. They have to go through extra hoops to access knowledge or concepts. Always put yourself in other people's shoes. Some struggle within the school system but it doesn't mean they are stupid. I have encountered many drop-outs in my life who were in fact highly intelligent. It is as if the school system was unable to keep up with them. And in my work as a psychiatrist, I learned to view people with so-called learning disorders or even attention disorders as gifted individuals, in fact. They perceive the world and think differently, and their perspective is just as important. Be curious, be inclusive, go talk to that kiddo who seems weird, speak up when you witness bullying or other forms of violence, celebrate your progress and avoid comparisons, see your own mistakes as part of the learning, and you'll turn your school experience into a lively, profound and rich one!

May this school year be full of possibilities and eye-opening experiences that will help you evolve as people. You can do it! The goal is not to be the best of all, but to become the best you can be...

And please visit me on this blog if you feel lonely or have questions... like how on earth do I manage to keep stuff like this school back after more than 4 decades?

Bonne rentrée scolaire à tous!

The leather schoolbag of my childhood